


Lightning Doesn't Strike Twice

by SpicyToast



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Minor Character Death, OC is an angry lady, Optional Smut, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Smut, Violence, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24095581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyToast/pseuds/SpicyToast
Summary: They say lightening doesn't strike twice... but Myra Rodriguez sure will. Temperamental, resentful and angry, but loyal beyond words, Myra is dragged into the Avengers' Compound for a straight forward mission: Find the source of a mysterious new drug on the market and bring enough samples home for testing - but things don't go to plan as Myra struggles to separate herself from her dubious past.Bucky is charged with keeping her on track but will their conflicting personalities be a recipe for disaster?Old habits die hard.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 41





	1. (1) First Impressions.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work and a bit of a proof on concept kind of thing. I have a large original piece in the works which I've been working on for over a year but I keep getting awful writers block so thought I'd try my hand at something very self indulgent, just writing what comes to mind in order and posting it when I finish a good chunk. 
> 
> Please enjoy, and leave me your feedback i the comments below if you want to see more. I apologise if characters appear out of character or their dialogue doesn't read the way they are portrayed in visual media - I am trying but I'm more used to writing original characters rather than having to emulate an existing character accurately.

It had been years since Myra had dated properly. A few flings had come and gone with nary a word from her suitors, but she hadn't cared. Even now - sat across a beautifully dressed table from a bland, but non the less attractive, man with a belly full of wonderful food – she wasn't sure she cared. The meal had been great, they had engaged in debates about economics, politics, societal issues – her intellectual equal for sure - but she knew she wouldn't be seeing him again after today. Myra had a short attention span and for as appealing as Noah was she already knew he would not hold her attentions for much longer than their lunch together. But at least she had tried, right?

In her pocket her phone buzzed, but she was raised better than to answer a phone at the table. Though after the 5th continuous minute of buzzing her leg was growing numb and her patience thin.

“Sorry.” She apologised quickly, pulling the device from her pocket. This was an effort in it's own right, the casing was practically armour plated and the device itself was quite large.

15 missed calls.

As she went to check the caller the name flashed on screen again with another incoming call.  
  
' _Tony_ '. 

She blinked down at the screen contemplating what to do. The 16th call went to voicemail, and within a few seconds call 17 was buzzing through. _He really wants me for something_.

“Would you, just excuse me for one moment?” She asked her date apologetically. He smiled and waved a hand at her in permission, Rolex glinting in the sunlight.

Myra stood and heading to the door of the cafe, answering as she stepped outside into the late summer sun.

“Your timing is impeccable, Stark, I was halfway through a crème brulee and a heated discussion about the failings of the American education system.”  
“Sounds awful, best get you out of there before you commit a felony out of boredom.” She snorted at the man on the other end of the receiver.  
“What do you want Tony?” She chuckled fondly.  
  
A black SUV with tinted windows pulled up at some speed to the curb in front of the cafe. Myra eyed it suspiciously, keeping her eyes trained on the driver side of the windscreen, though she couldn't see anyone through the tinted glass.  
  
“I got a job for you. Your ride's here, get in.” From the ten or so feet between her and the car, she heard the door unlock.  
She laughed dryly. “No dice, I'm on a date, you can wait until I've finished eating at the very least.”  
“I'm certain you will want to come and discuss the oppurt-”  
“How much?”  
“Your rent.”  
“How lon-”  
“A year.” Myra swallowed thickly. Her rent was over $2000 a month. She was always on time to pay, but it was sometimes a struggle to make ends meet, especially with the inconsistent nature of her work.  
  
She ran a ring clad hand over her tight braids and sighed.  
“What's the gig?”  
“Long story, better suited to being told in person. Your driver for the day isn't the most patient I wouldn't keep him waiting.”  
  
On cue the mystery driver of the SUV revved the engine hard, drawing the gaze of startled passersby.  
  
She disconnected the call without another word, and held her index finger up the the car. _1 minute_. She spun on the heel of her leather boots and re-entered the cafe to find Noah quizzing the waiter on the available wines, though Myra was sure she would need a bottle (or two) after hearing whatever Stark had to offer her.  
  
“Noah, I am so sorry, something has come up at work and I can't afford to turn down a shift.”  
He looked disappointed. Likely confused too, he didn't seem like the kind of person who had gone a single day without in his life.  
“I understand-” _That's a lie_. “- Well you have my number, we'll arrange to meet again soon.” She smiled at him genuinely.  
“Sure thing.” She leant in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek, which he reciprocated. She dropped $40 onto the table to cover what she had eaten and left, ignoring whatever the man had started to say.  
  


* * *

  
The door of eatery closed again with the light jingle of a bell. The SUV was still pulled up, engine running, at the curb of the sidewalk. Myra walked towards the vehicle, checking who was watching as she grabbed the passenger side handle. With one last sweeping glance, confident no one was interested in her actions, she pulled the heavy door open and swiftly jumped up onto the seat. She closed the door and belted herself in.  
  
“'bout time.” A deep Brookyln accent huffed next to her. She looked up from the belt clasp at her driver.  
Myra's breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide and wild like she was an animal caught in a trap. She basically was.  
He wasn't quite like she remembered from the photos, but the man sat in the driver's seat was unmistakable.  
The steering wheel creaked as his gloved left hand tightened around it.  
Myra was completely still, frozen in the sharp strikingly blue gaze of the _Winter Solider_.  
  
She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off.  
“Everything alright?” A muscle visibly twitched in his sculpted jaw.  
His obvious annoyance caused a wave of indigence in the woman.  
  
“Take it the market for terrorism took a dive then ey? Though I find it hard to believe an assassin's next choice of work is chauffeur.” She snarked, pulling her phone from her pocket and starting what would be a long thread of angry messages to Stark.  
  
The former Hydra weapon of choice growled lowly, and without another word slammed the car into drive and tire spun away towards the Avenger's compound.  
  


* * *

Before Bucky had even brought the vehicle to a halt Myra had already hopped out, strutting towards the entrance of the towering building.  
He rubbed his flesh hand down his face, having discarded his pair of gloves not long after it became apparent that the girl knew exactly who he was, Vibranium visible or not.  
  
Bucky wasn't used to being on the back foot, this girl had taken him totally by surprise. As he had watched her from the car, while she spoke with Stark on the phone, she had seemed placid and definitely not the sort you would call upon for assistance with a mission such as the one in store for her. He was proven wrong about his assumption of the girl's personality from their tortuously long car journey, and was almost eager to see if he would proven wrong about her capabilities.  
  
She had evidently been here before, diving from the vehicle before he'd even stopped it and storming her way into the compound. He stuck the car in park and killed the engine, calling ahead to Stark to warn him of the firecracker swiftly heading his direction.  
  


* * *

F.R.I.D.A.Y had informed Myra where she could find the billionaire, guiding her through the facility until she arrived at the large double doors to the opulent office of the Iron Man himself.  
  
"Long time no see, Sparky." He called from behind a wide desk, littered with mechanical parts and paperwork, as the doors swung open, hanging up his phone and placing it on the surface in front of him.  
  
She navigated straight to where Stark kept a decanter of amber liquid and poured herself a generous glass, swallowing a large mouthful and topping the glass back up before she replied.  
  
"Long time no _speak_ , Tin Can. I sometimes wonder why you got me this thing, you only use it when you want something." She waved her phone at him before pocketing it again.  
  
He chuckled, watching as she drank heartily from the bespoke glass tumbler.  
  
"Was Barnes' driving that bad?" She gave a dry laugh in response, sitting in a large comfortable arm chair where she could still face him.  
  
"Perhaps a heads up in future before you send an unstable sleeper agent to pick me up."  
  
The door opened behind them and the aforementioned former assassin stepped in, Myra didn't turn to acknowledge him. Reluctant to give him a way in to conversation she carried on.  
  
"So what's the job?" She took another swig, catching sight of Barnes slink in and position himself against the wall on the opposite side of the room.  
Tony moved back to the large swivel chair behind his desk, seating himself in it and pulling up a holographic array of what appeared to be crime scene photos.  
A yellow marker with the number 6 printed in black upon it was sat on the ground next to a small plastic baggie.  
Another photo showed a close up of the contents: a powder that looked almost iridescent, purple veins almost seemed to run over the substance. _Curious_.  
  
"3 weeks ago Deshaun Butler was found dead - " A projection of a map appear alongside the photographs "-in a park near his college campus."  
  
Next an image of the deceased came up.  
  
_Shame_ , Myra thought bitterly.  
  
He was an attractive young man. Dark skin, neatly trimmed hair, wide genuine smile that reached his eyes and made them shine.  
  
"Cause of death unknown, but this bag of an untraceable substance was found on his person." Stark moved his hand with a flurry across the touch screen built into his desk. The photographs were replaced with figures, graphs and molecular diagrams.  
  
"Fury caught wind of it when the local PD couldn't identify the drug." Myra finished her glass and rose to decant a further one.  
  
"What's the short version, Tony? For a years rent there must be more to it than a college student overdosing."  
"It's not from Earth. Or rather the compounds it is made from don't originate on Earth. I want you to help us gather enough samples to work out _what_ it is and _where_ it's coming from."  
  
A wicked smile spread over Myra's lips.  
  
Bucky didn't take his eyes off her. Something about her demeanour made him uncomfortable, _tense_.  
  
He was quickly learning that she was a far cry from the champagne with lunch,waited-on, type he had taken her for when he picked her up outside a high end cafe earlier that day.  
  
"You're gonna pay my rent for a year... for buying drugs?"  
"It's not quite that -" The woman burst into laughter, cutting Tony off.  
"And Momma always told me I'd need a real job. 'How you gonna keep a roof over your head when you can't put your money in the bank, _pendeja_!?'" She impersonated her mother with an un-practised Spanish accent.  
"Nah, Tony this is great man. Done deal."  
  
She drank more of the bourbon a large gulp, patting her pockets for her cigarettes.  
  
Bucky shifted, eyeing Stark as he held his face in both hands. She sure was a handful.  
  
"We'll go over this in more detail at the briefing later. But Myra there _are_ conditions to this."  
  
She waved a hand dismissively.  
"What you'll wiggle your finger at me for any collateral?" Sniggering as she nursed her drink.  
  
"You lose a month's pay."  
"Just the month? I can work with that."  
"A month for each. Everyone walks out of this alive, Myra."  
  
The girl was silent now, looking down into her glass.  
  
Bucky noticed how the lights in the room flickered ever so slightly.  
  
"So 12 or more and I don't get paid?"  
"That's how it works or I find someone else."  
"And if some cholo pulls a gun on me?"  
"Improvise."  
  
The silence that fell over the room was uncomfortable.  
Bucky swallowed thickly.  
This pint size girl clearly had a reputation with Stark, he had already guessed she had been to the upper state compound previously but her and Stark had obviously done business before too.  
  
"No promises." She muttered, knocking the rest of her drink back and heading for the door, pulling a cigarette from the box as she went.  
  
As she reached the door it swung open and Steve entered, stopping her in her tracks. Bucky turned toward the door, wary of how she would interact with his best friend. The tall super soldier looked down at the dot of a woman in front of him.  
  
"Nice to see you again, Myra." She audibly snorted, looking him up and down and spoke around the cigarette placed between her lips.  
  
"Pleasure's all yours, Captain." With that she took a stride forward, making Steve step sideways to let her pass.  
  
As she reached the corridor she barked up to the ceiling "Friday! Show me where I can smoke." strutting away down the hall away from the 3 men in the office letting the door slam shut behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> Tensions run high at the mission briefing.


	2. (2) Briefing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2 - all a lot of set up at the moment but it will start to gain in momentum soon, promise! 
> 
> As always please comment below any feedback, are you enjoying the series, do you want to see more? This is the first work I've put online for public criticism hoping to be able to apply the comments to things I am writing privately. This is a new kind of writing style for me, a lot more informal so I'd like to know if it's hitting the mark or not.
> 
> S.T xo

The door swung closed behind Myra leaving the trio in a daze. Tony hadn't moved from his seat, hands now clasped behind his neck, elbows on the table. Steve turned back to Bucky, walking over and clapping him on the shoulder.  
  
"Got back in one piece I take it?"  
Bucky smiled, returning the gesture.  
"I'm not sure that's how she wanted it."  
Steve laughed dryly, parting from his super solider companion to sit in the chair Myra had once occupied.  
"So what did she say?"  
"She'll do it." Tony sat up, stretching with a loud exhalation of air.  
"Did you talk to her about -"  
"I did." Tony cut him off, standing to pour himself a drink. He needed something to take the edge off. Myra was a trying character; she was quick witted, short tempered and brazen. And when it came to the Avengers, she had a whole potato on her shoulder, never mind a chip.  
  
"You really think she'd kill that many people?" Bucky asked, only now coming toward the centre of the room. In his usual company it wouldn't have been a question worth asking, they'd all taken lives for one reason or another, but Myra was an anomaly to him. He remained stood near Stark's desk. Steve raised an eyebrow, looking back to Tony. The billionaire raised his in return, swallowing a mouthful of liquor and running his spare hand through his hair.  
  
"She cares about money, this is work to her. She won't risk losing out on her reward by killing anyone."  
  
"What _exactly_ has she agreed to, Tony?" Steve pressed, leaning his elbows on his knees as Tony returned to his seat.  
  
"Docked pay... for every life she takes." He shrugged, drinking heavily. "1 life, 1 less month I pay her rent."  
  
"Jesus Tony."  
  
"It's _incentive_ , Cap. She wants to be paid more than she wants to hurt anyone."  
  
"Tony you know damn well she will hospitalise an entire fraternity and still demand full pay just because nobody died. You've given her a loophole. " Tony stood back up, but Bucky interjected before he could speak.  
  
"Who is she, exactly?". He had been left relatively in the dark about the whole situation. He knew the ins and outs of the mission, the preceding events and their current drafted plan. He was asked to drive to a cafe in the city to bring back a girl. No one had mentioned to him why she was necessary. Stark had an entire facility full of ex spies and assassins, people with unimaginable abilities, a warehouse full of technology that could easily track, hack and expose any illicit activities, yet here they were _buying_ the help of a woman who didn't seem to care much for the cause rather, her own self interest.  
  
Neither Steve nor Tony seemed to know how to reply. What Bucky didn't realise was that it was a very loaded question. She was a bitter, resentful and angry human, but loyal beyond words. She was unfocused, undisciplined but fiercely tactical and strong. She was also ruthlessly effective when the right incentive was dangled before her, but did not care much for the _rules_.  
  
Steve found his tongue first.  
  
"Myra Rodriguez. One of Tony's pet projects, like Parker." Ah, the Spider kid, another unconventional choice. Though Parker had given him and Sam the run around in years not too long past.  
  
"In 2011, Mjölnir crashed into Puente Antiguo. For a long time we, well... S.H.I.E.L.D thought there were no casualties." He looked to the Captain for support.  
  
"Myra was nearby and somehow she ended up with...abilities."  
  
"A pint sized Thor but with much less control, and thankfully much less power." Tony finished. Perhaps someone could have at least given him the foot notes before he was stuck in a car with her for nearly 2 hours.  
  
"She'll be fine," He paused, sipping his drink. "It won't be like _last time_." Tony reassured at a whisper, though he didn't look to Steve, almost as if he was reassuring himself more than anything. Bucky felt a twisting in his gut.  
  
There was a ping overhead and F.R.I.D.A.Y's soft voice called to Tony.  
  
"Mr Stark, Miss Rodriguez is requesting your company."  
  
"Tell her I'm on my way". He replied, refilling both his glass and hers, and making to leave the room. He took one last look back at the two super soldiers.

"Briefing, 8pm. Don't be late." They nodded.  
He went to leave again, before pausing.

"Oh err, Barnes?" Bucky looked back up to him. "Good erm...Good job today."

He nodded once, he wouldn't have had a chance to reply even if he intended to as Tony slipped through the door and left.

* * *

20:00 hours.  
Avengers Compound, Upper State New York.

The briefing room had started to fill up over the last 15 minutes before the meeting. Tony had already gone ahead of Myra. They'd had a catch up over a couple of drinks, combined with what she had already drank Myra was certainly _merry._ She stayed behind, sat upon one of several benches surrounding a fire pit that she had convinced her older companion to light. Myra needed one last cigarette to level her nerves before she had to sit in audience with the Avengers and whatever offshoots were lingering around. Though, she supposed, that made her an offshoot too. She had met a couple of members before but hadn't been informed who would be in attendance today – she hadn't seen anyone other than Stark, Rogers and Barnes since she arrived.

When she finally reached the room, guided by F.R.I.D.A.Y, she had to brace herself to enter. Steeling her face she walked in, drawing the eyes of the others already clustered around the far end of the table chatting idly – Tony was notably absent. Myra ignored them and dropped herself into a seat at the other end, as far away as she could get.|

“Myra.” She looked up to see Barton, seated next to the ever scarlet-haired _Black Widow.  
“_Clint” She nodded curtly back to him _.  
  
_Opposite them she noted Dr Banner.  
To his left, Rhodes, the _War Machine.  
_There were a few spaces between the next occupants of any seats – where Rogers and Wilson sat opposite one another, the Captain opting to sit on the same side as Romanoff.  
  
No one else greeted her.  
  
At least another 5 minutes passed (though to Myra it felt agonisingly longer) until Tony strode into the room, “Sorry everyone, I had to get the smell of cigarette smoke off my clothes.” She rolled her eyes, finally looking up from her phone, as he walked past her. Banner had started tinkering with a screen at their end of the room, giving her a moment with Tony as he turned back to her.

“You okay kid?” She hummed back at him.

“I guess the big guy has more important stuff on?” Tony smiled meekly down at her, rubbing her arm. “When we hear from him I'll let you know.” She smiled back at him as he moved away to the front of the room.

“Let's get started, everyone is here. Do I have the attention of the class?” He paused “That includes you two troublemakers at the back.”

 _Two?_ She turned her head to see Barnes sat at the last seat of the table on the opposite side to her. She made brief eye-contact with him. _How long has he been there?_ She pondered. He must have snuck in quietly, or maybe she had drank one too many glasses of liquor for a work night – but she still had to work, so she pocketed her phone and turned her full attention to Tony who stood at the end of the table with holo-array ready to illustrate his every point.

Stark briefed those present on the information that he had already relayed to Myra, with a few extra details:

Deshaun Butler was discovered dead in a park a 10 minutes walk away from the college campus where he studied. His cause of death was undetermined; the prevailing theory was that he had overdosed however the substance found on his person wasn't any kind of narcotic that the police's drug lab could identify. Nick Fury had become involved and the remaining substance was handed over to the Avengers. Dr Banner had ran a couple of tests and managed to determine that several compounds within the powder were not of Earth – however, the compound was highly reactive and broke down quickly during testing meaning that they had run out of material to subject to any further tests. The goal of the mission was to acquire more of the mystery drug to allow for further testing to determine _what_ exactly it is, and to investigate the dealers of said substance to learn _where_ it was coming from.

“Sparky, this is where you come in.” Myra sat up a little straighter. Images of the college campus were pulled up onto the array. “Myra will be our in. She'll be enrolled onto a course at the college. Your first goal is to find out who is dealing the mystery drug and build a connection with them. You will then need to try and get at least one sample.” _Simple enough_. Myra thought. She understood how drug dealers operated, this would be a piece of cake. “The substance has a rapid half-life,” Dr Banner interjected. “One or two bags might be able to get us some answers but between you acquiring the drugs and them arriving here... there might not be anything left to test.” He was looking down the table at her with large doey brown eyes. She'd put the pieces together.

“You want me to try get weights?” It wasn't a question really, she already knew the answer.

“1oz to begin with. Then we'll see if we need anymore to finish all the testing required.” Banner explained.

A few heads had turned towards Myra, who leant back in her chair and nodded.

“I can do that.” She affirmed.

Tony continued - “The 2nd part of our goal is to locate the source of the narcotics. This should run concurrently with the 1st objective, but is not the priority. We need to know what the hell this stuff is first and foremost, it might even give us the answers to track down whoever it is that is putting this crap in the hands of the dealers, but keep your eyes and ears open. Any intel needs to be relayed back to headquarters so we can conduct any reconnaissance needed.” Romanoff and Barton both nodded. Myra could have guessed the dynamic duo would have been put on the same assignment.

“Myra, you'll be living in the college dorms on campus. The first semester for freshman begins next week. You're enrolled already and have a room to yourself. That gives you till next Tuesday to learn your cover identity back to front.” Tony continued, looking to Romanoff who slid a packed manilla folder across the table to her. She caught it under one hand, but didn't open it to read. She would use it as bedtime reading.

“That brings us to how you'll be getting the samples back here.” Myra heard Barnes shift behind her. “Barnes will be posing as your partner, he'll drive you onto campus on-”

“Nope.”

Everyone around the table turned to look at Myra.

“No no no. Not happening.”

“Myra-”

“No. Tony.” She whipped her head to face the man behind her, who was lightly flexing his metal hand. “Look at him!” The solider scowled back at her, jaw fixed as he balled his vibranium hand into a fist. “He will scare away every weasley little street dealer in a 10 miles radius, why can't we use Parker, say he's my little brother or something?” Stark rubbed a hand down his face again.

“He has school.”  
  
Myra didn't look back to him.  
Her and Bucky were still holding each other's eye contact fiercely.  
  
“Then use Clint. Say he's my Dad.”  
“No can do kid, I've already got a job in all this.”  
  
There was a pregnant pause as the rest of the Avengers watched their staring contest, neither willing to break their gaze first. Surprisingly it was Bucky who broke the silence. “What do you think is best?” They still held one another’s attention intently, “I drive myself in, I unpack myself. I will come off campus to meet you when I have something for you.” He half nodded, as if in agreement. He did go to speak but a voice cut in.

“Myra he'll be there for your protection.” Steve interrupted.

Her eyes dropped to the table, her jaw visibly tensing.

She slowly turned to face the Captain.

“And what _exactly_ gave you the impression that _I_ need protection?” It was his time in the spotlight now, but Myra was miles more irritated by Steve than she had been by Bucky – who now sat observing the girl closely.

He could hear a faint crackling sound, and watched intrigued as small almost invisible sparks twinkled around her hands.

“These are expert criminals, they will have precautions against people snooping-” Myra laughed at the man.

“ _These_ are college kids, Steve. Probably slinging so they can afford to eat.”

The Captain didn't waver, facing her with arms crossed.

“There will be less chance of trouble if they know there's someone there looking out for you.”

There was an audible _zapping_ sound as light blue sparks pulsed from Myra, skittering from her forehead down the thick tight braid that her hair was pulled into.

“I don't _need_ anyone looking out for me.” Her fists were now balled on the table.  
  
Natasha was now stood.  
Rhodey, too, looked poised.  
Even Tony was looking tense.

  
_They really don't trust her,_ Bucky thought to himself.

He reached his metal hand over the table, tapping his index finger twice near to Myra. She snapped her head back to him. Bucky was frozen in his tracks, captivated by her eyes. They were light brown, almost amber, in usual circumstances – but now sparks glittered within her irises like stars. In barely more than a whisper he reassured her.

“I'll follow your lead.”

The young woman's face softened.

“Then it's settled-” Tony jumped in, catching everyone's attention once more. There was an edge to his voice – relief? “Myra you move in on Tuesday. Everyone, we have 7 days to get this plan streamlined. Learn your roles, get the lay of the land, this has got to go off without a hitch.” He closed down the holographic array and perched on a table at the far end.  
  


The crowd began to disperse, Myra caught her name on the murmurs of the Avengers et al as they left the room. She wasn't going to win a popularity contest any time soon, but she was here to get paid not to make friends.

Stark walked up to her when they had the room to themselves again, sitting on the table and resting a hand on her shoulder. “Thought you were gonna blow Barnes' head off for a second there, look at you showing restraint.” She shrugged his hand of her shoulder laughing. “You must have done something right during that car journey, he crossed his oldest friend for you.”

She hummed, reaching into the pockets of her denim jacket for her box of cigarettes again.

“He's a good soldier – he deescalated a volatile situation because it was the most sensible option. I'm not taking it personally.” Tony shrugged in response as the pair rose to exit the conference room. As they reached the doorway they noticed Steve leant up against the wall in the corridor, his arms were crossed tightly over his chest, muscles flexed beneath the tight navy top he was wearing. Myra looked up to Tony, a cigarette hanging between her lips. He sighed and Myra knew that whatever conversation they were about to have wouldn't be easy – perhaps that was down to her.

“Your room is still made up... from last time. I haven't touched anything so...” She looked back to Rogers briefly. The Captain was usually easy going – a self righteous old man, no doubt – but usually very calm. Right now, he was oozing discontent, his brows furrowed and his posture rigid. “Sure thing Tin Can, cheers.”

“Friday, help her to her room.”

“Yes sir, Mr Stark. This way, Miss Rodriguez.”

The floor illuminated with an arrow and without another word Myra took off the the same direction. It had been a long day and perhaps a shower and some sleep would help her feel more settled about the situation she had found herself in. Besides, she had at least 100 pages of briefing material to read through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:
> 
> The Captain delivers a stern message.  
> Myra bumps in to an old friend.  
> Bucky learns a little more about the compound's new resident.


	3. (3) Archive.

Once the corridor was cleared, Tony turned back to Steve who was still leant up against the grey walls, arms crossed and brow furrowed.   
  
"I get the feeling we're better off having this conversation in private?"   
  
He didn't wait for a reply and set off in the direction of his office. He could have done with returning to his workshop but that was open and accessible to anyone in the facility.  
  
It took but a few minutes for the pair to reach the doorway. It appeared to be made of frosted glass, allowing privacy from onlookers, but was highly reinforced - perhaps the builder had the foresight to know how many times the door would slam open and closed. The Captain shut the door with some force, walking to stand in front of Stark's desk as he sat once again.  
  
"What's the problem, Cap?"  
  
"That wasn't the plan."  
  
"Are you actually annoyed with me, or just pissed that Barnes took her side over yours?"  
Steve ignored the obvious taunt.  
  
"Bucky is meant to be a deterrent. You know what will happen if she ends up in the middle of a fight."   
  
Tony toyed with a pen on his desk. He did know, in fact he knew several things:   
1 - that she would most likely kill or maim whoever had attacked her.  
2 - her cover would be blown wide open and the mission would fail.  
3 - he would never hear the end of the Captain's 'I told you so's.  
  
He chose not to answer, opting to pose a different question instead.   
  
"Are you worried about Barnes?"  
  
He looked up at Steve, who slightly slackened his tightly crossed arms.  
  
"Are you?" He pushed.  
  
"This is his chance to prove himself, Tony, and I don't want this loose cannon of yours ruining that."  
  
"Who's to say they won't work together better than any other matchup?"  
"History, Tony, she doesn't play well with others..."  
"She worked well with Thor. Wanda? Her and Clint get along."

  
Steve sighed.

  
"They are different, she never ran a mission with them. She doesn't follow orders, Tony, you don't put soldiers in the field who don't follow orders."  
  
"She isn't a solider, Cap."  
  
The pair held a heated stare down, before the Captain threw down his arms and headed for the door. He paused as his hand reached the handle, looking back to the _Iron Man_ who was still leant forward at his desk.   
  
"I won't let her use my best friend as collateral just because she can't keep her powers under control. If he gets hurt..."  
  
_Or killed._ He thought bitterly.  
  
"Well. He better not."  
  
Before Tony could retort Steve slipped out the door, leaving it to swing shut behind him.

* * *

F.R.I.D.A.Y guided Myra to the 'guest wing': A dissued wing of three bedrooms, a kitchenette, a balcony and a large living space with several sofas and a wide flat screen on the wall. The space was decorated in various shades of grey. Dark granite covered the worktops of the kitchen and the large island that seperated it from the living room.

When she was last here, the space had more life.

She stepped fully through the door into the centre of the living space, running her hand over one of the large sofas. All this space and suddenly she didn't know what she needed first. She looked to her left where the lounge turned into the kitchen – she was hungry. Then to the right where the space carried on, past another sofa to the balcony exit – and she could do with a cigarette. Her eyes then drifted over the three bedrooms. All three were large, from memory, but shaped differently due to the space. Two thinner and longer, to the left and right as you looked into the room, and one wide but short – stretching between them.

“The other two rooms are empty, you have this wing to yourself, Miss Rodriguez.”

Mumbling a thank you she headed toward the right, her old room. As she opened the door and stepped inside she realised Stark had been telling the truth. It was exactly as she remembered. Big king sized bed, plenty of cupboard and counter space. The ensuite bathroom was clean and bright. She turned on her heel back towards the doorway of the spacious walk in closet. To her surprise she found it stocked with clothes still. The majority were her own, coupled with a section of training wear and shoes once gifted to her.

Myra took a moment to change. The outfit she had donned for her date was getting uncomfortable. Discarding her leather boots, denim jacket, black jeans and patterned blouse she favoured more stretchy material. A pair of black training leggings with plenty of elastic and a blue vest. She looked at herself in the full length mirror within the closet and smiled weakly. She had worn a similar outfit on her last day here.

Myra took another 20 minutes to wander around. She was feeling shell shocked, or perhaps it was the after effects of too much tension (and bourbon). With one decisive growl her stomach advised her she should eat, it had after all been a long time since lunch. Myra discovered the cupboards to be plenty filled with non-perishables, herbs, spices and condiments. The fridge too with an assortment of vegetables and meat. She didn't have the drive to cook, however, and settled for making herself two slices of toast and a coffee which she ate on the comfort of one of the three deep couches. Once finished she leant back, pulled out her phone and began scrolling...

* * *

Following the briefing Bucky had headed straight back to his quarters. He had showered, eaten and now sat in a reclining chair on his floor's balcony looking out at the bats zipping through the dark sky. It was late now and considering the amount of prepartions required over the next week he should have been heading to bed – but he was very much awake. Bucky rarely slept through the night at the best of times, but he knew for sure he would struggle tonight. The new visitor had caused a stir in the compound. Steve had been on edge since she had arrived. He wasn't afraid, he didn't think Steve was afraid of anyone, but he definetly wasn't happy. Even before their confrontation at the briefing he'd been visibly tense, and the briefing itself had made everyone else unsettled too. He sighed heavily, remembering how for a split second he thought there would be an all out brawl. Steve was never one to back down from a fight, evidently Myra was cut from the same cloth – in one way at least. _Not a single person around that table trusted her_ , that was obvious. Arguements around a briefing table were normal, they happened almost on cue most of the time, but no one ever jumped in. It was always a harsh exchange of words and nothing more... and that's all it was earlier that day, but no one acted like it was normal. He thought Natasha was going to dive at her over the table, but she didn't back down. Brave or stupid? Was he going to regret offering to follow her lead? He shook his head trying to shake the thought.

He tried to clear his mind, focusing only on trying to spot that bats as they flew in and out of the beams being projected by the spotlights surrounding the building. He allowed his eyes to drift shut, listening to the faint clicks and squeaks of the bats, the distant sound of wind blowing through trees, the hum of eletricity in a nearby light. The low drone of the light grew louder until it was all Bucky could hear, causing him to sit up and rub his hands through his hair.

" _A pint sized Thor' –_ what did that even mean? Who the hell was this girl?

The soldier stood, stretching his arms behind his back and heading back inside. He slid the glass door closed behind him, finding Sam laid out watching television on one of the couches. He sipped from a beer that he held loosley in one hand.

“So you didn't fall asleep out there?” He poked. Bucky rolled his eyes, walking through and sitting himself on a stool at the breakfast bar.

“Why are you still up, you aren't usually a _night owl_.” Sam sat up.

“Har har har, I'm gonna let that slide but only cause you don't look like you can handle a battle of wits right now.”

“I'm sure.” Bucky mumbled, casting his eyes up to the tv on the wall. He didn't watch tv, he probably should – there were more things than he could count that he needed to catch up on still despite the number of years he'd now been off the ice.

“What do you think to the girl then?” Sam carried on, walking over to the fridge where he produced two beers. He slid one over the counter to the Sergeant. Bucky grabbed it and easily crushed the cap from it with two vibranium fingers. He took a heavy drink, he didn't know how to respond. Sam carried on.

“Firecracker huh? Damn near thought she was gonna try start a fight with Steve.”

“She wanted to.” He agreed, drinking from the bottle again. Sam was leant up against the counter looking towards his companion, for as much as Bucky was trying to ignore him – rather, he wanted to forget about the girl for the rest of the evening.

“Sure did. You know what happened with her?” Bucky paused before he sipped his beer again, looking round to Sam.

“Do you?” Sam shook his head.

“Nah, no one will tell me shit. Thought maybe Steve would have told you more about her before you went to pick her up.”

“No, I didn't even get her name.” Sam chuckled.

“We're clearly not part of the trusted inner circle yet.” Bucky hummed in response, looking back to the tv as Sam finished his beer. The _Falcon_ patted Bucky on his flesh shoulder as he passed him and headed towards his bedroom. “See you in the mornin' Buck.”

“Night, Sam.”

Bucky sat still and listened as Sam's door closed. Sighing again he drank from his bottle and set it back on the solid counter. So the only people who seemed to be in the dark about this girl were him and Sam, suggesting that the last time she was here was between the incident in New York and he and Sam joining the team. He cast his eyes over the counter to where a laptop sat. He reached over and pulled the thin device closer to him, opening it up and typing his details in. He rarely used these kinds of things, prefering to do his recon in person rather than digitally, but he had access to everything he needed to dig up information on most persons known to the Avengers – or rather those who Fury decided they needed to know about. He opened up the archives and took a few scrolls around before opting to use the search bar to thin down his options from the thousands of files.

_Myra Rodriguez._

A handful of files were left:

A folder of her personal details

Some old reconnaissance files

A file on 2011's 'impact' in New Mexico

And a file named 'INC 2597' _._

He navigated over to the incident record. A bar began to load on screen, and as it hit 100% a red message overlaid on the screen.

'Access denied.'

_Strange._ He thought, clicking again. The file would not open.

 _What did you do?_ He thought, mystified.

Even _his_ records weren't sealed, so why were her's? To protect her, or to protect others?

He found the report on the New Mexico impact less than helpful, mainly containing S.H.I.E.L.D reports on Mjölnir, the arrival of Thor and the clean up report. Deciding to stop beating around the bush he skipped the recon files and Bucky instead tried her personal details, which he was thankful to see also load without issue. The file wasn't particularly extensive, but he learned a few basic things:

She was Myra Rodriguez, 27 years old.

Born in New Mexico to a Mexican mother and a Canadian father.

She was first arrested at 15 years old, a habit that continued through into her late teens

Until 2011 when she was caught in the aftershock of a certain mythical hammer plummeting into the earth.

Fury had tracked her down after a spree of crimes including a few key features; every site looked like it had been hit by an EMP, no CCTV, no phones, no lights.

Bucky was disheartened to find several pages that were so heavily redacted that they were unreadable. He assumed this to contain details of what happened after she was brought to the facility but the section was so large it was anyone's guess.

It looked like he wasn't getting his answers tonight.

A small victory at least, he now had a somewhat better understanding of who Myra was - superficial of course, he was curious to discover why she held such a burning contempt for her peers - but those mysteries would have to wait for another day. Yawning, he grabbed his beer then drank the remainder down in one. He closed down the archives and shut the laptop, before standing and slinking back to his room hoping for sleep – though he knew his mind would be buzzing until the small hours over the mysterious _Myra Rodriquez_.

* * *

“Miss Rodriguez, you have a visitor.”

“Hnng wh-what?”

Myra bleerily pushed her face up from here it was wedged into a cushion. She blinked around the room, confused where she was. As she sat up her phone banged to the floor making her jolt. The woman looked around fully, processing her location, settling on her bedroom door, then the unocupied room to the left of it.

“Miss Rodriguez?”

“Hi yes -” She cleared her throat, taking a swig of the cold coffee that sat on the low table in front of the couch. “-yes Friday, send them in.. please, sorry.” Myra rubbed her face heavily, _fucking bourbon._

She heard the door open to her left, and looked toward the newcomer only a split second before she was struck by the oncoming form. She was knocked backwards on the sofa, two long arms had wrapped around her and were squeezing her hard. Long hair tickled her nose and she squirmed to free her face from the long red locks.

“You don't visit in how long? Then you don't even tell me when you're back.” Came a muffled Sokovian accent.

Myra wrapped her arms around the slender body of the _Scarlett Witch_ , laughing back at her.

“I know, I suck. How you doing, Wanda?” The woman pulled back from her, bringing her hands up to hold Myra's face. “Look at you, so thin. You've not been eating enough.” Laughing again she pushed Wanda's hands from her cheeks. “I eat plenty, I just don't get a daily work out from that meathead anymore.” She nodded to the middle bedroom. The pair smiled warmly at one another, before pulling each other back into a deep hug.

“I missed you, Witchy.”

“And I missed you, _Striker_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:  
> Myra feels nostalgic.  
> Bucky has an interesting work out.  
> Wanda provides some home comforts.
> 
> As always please comment and leave a kudos if you are enjoying and want to see more.  
> Massive love to anyone that has come back to read another chapter, you folk are the best.  
> S.T. 
> 
> xo


	4. (4) Encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus: Between coronavirus, working as a key worker at least 5 days a week and trying to care for my Grandma who recently had a devastating stroke it's been a rough few months for me. Hopefully back in to the swing of things now. Thank you for your patience.

**06:00**

**The Avengers Compound**

**Upper State New York**

**6 days until deployment.**

A thin beam of light shining in between hastily drawn curtains danced across Myra's closed eyes. Grumbling she rolled over to grab her phone and checked the time. 6am. She groaned into one of the many pillows. Her and Wanda had sat talking in to the early hours of the day before her powerful friend had slipped away and allowed Myra to climb into the indulgently large bed she had been blessed with. She had fallen asleep straight away, but did not feel rested. Curling herself more into the quilt she pulled her phone closer having a quick scroll through her social media platforms. No one had messaged to ask where she was – she didn't really have anyone who would reach out to check on her. Apart from here, but she got the distinct feeling that Stark always knew where she was.

Her phone quickly bored her and Myra dragged herself from the warmth of the sheets to shower. She pulled her hair free from the singular intricate braid it had been fashioned it into the day before, turned on the roomy shower and stripped before stepping under the large rainfall stream. The shampoo and body wash was basic, no exciting scents or functions just simple 'get you clean' products. Myra made a mental note to ask about going back to her apartment in the city to collect some items – her hair would be a mess otherwise. Though the rest of the room was plenty stocked Myra had distinctly remembered grabbing nearly everything in the bathroom when she made her exit from the stronghold the last time. She never thought she would return, so why leave her bathroom with supplies.

Once clean, Myra stepped out from the large cubicle and wrapped herself in a toasty plush towel. It trailed on the ground slightly and was realistically too big for her small frame. She brushed her teeth in front of the mirror then blow dried her hair, wasting little time in pulling the long strands back into a simple braid as the hairs began to frizz up with static.

She finished up preparations there as she had no makeup to apply, not that she wore a huge amount normally but the option was nice to have. Her range of clothes wasn't the most extensive either, giving her a choice of black, grey or navy across the board. She sighed donning a black short sleeved t-shirt and grey gym leggings. Myra rooted around a little more but found the closet lacking in any warm top layers. No jackets or hoodies to be seen. Grumbling she exited her bedroom in to the large empty living space of the wing. Her eyes landed on the thick manilla folder on the coffee table – she had intended to get a head start reading up on _who_ she was going to be in 6 days time but had been distracted by Wanda's sudden arrival... and prior to that she had fallen asleep on the couch before having a chance.

However Myra still avoided picking up the hefty file and instead bypassed it in favour of the kitchen.

She prepared, then wolfed down, a basic breakfast of oats with sliced bananas and blueberries along with several cups of strong coffee while she watched the news on the frankly ridiculously large television. She thought back to the screen at her apartment that was dwarfed by this behemoth. Perhaps when she left this time she could sneak some of the hardware out too.

Breakfast, coffee, and a daily dose of televised doom and gloom ingested the next thing on Myra's list was a cigarette. She grabbed a straight from the box she had abandoned on the coffee table the night before and made her way over to the sliding door out to the modest balcony.

As the door cracked a fierce breeze whipped through fluttering her t-shirt.

Myra slammed the door shut.

“Fuck me.” She shivered heavily rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

They were further North here, and although she had lived in New York City for some years now she was still better suited to the toasty climate of her home state.

With a large sigh Myra turned to look at her bedroom, knowing full well that she had no thick outer layers and that the few long sleeved tops in her possession would do nothing against the bitter wind blowing just beyond the door. For a brief second she considered just smoking inside but knew full well that Stark would have F.R.I.D.A.Y soak her with the sprinklers if she tried.

She almost admitted defeat before her eyes drifted over to the centre vacant room. Inadvertently her brow furrowed. What choice did she really have? He wasn't here. She was cold. Myra continued to reason with herself as she crossed the floor space of the guest wing all the way until her hand wrapped around the cool metal handle. This was fine...right?

She sucked in a deep breath before pushing the handle down and slinging the bedroom door wide open. Light poured in through the half drawn curtains, illuminating a spiralling cloud of dust disturbed by the sudden movement.  
  
Myra knew the room to be empty but she hesitated regardless. In a time long passed any knock at the threshold would be accompanied by a booming welcome, but now it was silent. She slowly stepped inside. It was almost exactly as she remembered but lacking the life. Combined with the drab lighting it felt like tomb. A laptop sat atop the desk unplugged. A t-shirt was slung unwashed on the back of chair. The bedsheets were tussled to the side. Much like her room it seems that no one had been here since he left.  
  
Crossing the open space to the closet Myra popped her head inside before flicking the light switch to illuminate the God of Thunder's wardrobe. She ran her hand through the hanging garments, each one sparking a vague memory in her mind of a time she had seen it worn. It was then that her hand settled on a large dark grey hoodie, it had a blue coloured detail over one shoulder and a big hood that she remembered smothering even Thor's robust head. Giggling at the image she pulled it off the hanger and wormed her way inside.  
  
She spun towards the full length mirror to take in the fit.  
  
It was far too big - comedically so. The sleeves went beyond her arms and carried on until Myra had to make real effort to even poke her fingers out the end. The pockets were down to her mid thigh and the bottom hem grazed her knees - luckily her legs were longer than her body or the ensemble would have been too ridiculous a sight to pull off.  
  
She tugged at the hem lightly as she looked herself over. He'd worn this on their last morning together. Smiling gently she pulled up the hood to rest a top her head.  
  
_Funny how this hood was even big on him._  
  
As she shifted the hood slipped and dropped to cover her eyes.

* * *

Myra giggled, looking up from the couch at the Asgardian. With one large paw he grabbed the hood and pulled it back revealing his cerulean eyes once again.  
  
"I think that might be a bit big, even for you."  
  
With a shake of his head Thor knocked the hood back behind him.  
  
"In Asgard our outfits are custom fitted, warriors come in all shapes and sizes."  
  
Myra stifled another round of laughter.  
  
"Very inspirational, they should put you on billboards."  
  
"Perhaps they should! Even an un-intimidating shrimp like you can become a fine shieldmaiden."  
  
There was a pregnant pause as the two burst out laughing. Myra's shrill giggles somehow not drowned out by Thor's deep booming chortle.  
  
Still tittering, Myra stood from the couch.  
  
" _Shieldmaiden_." She dramatically flexed her arms. "I'm more spear than shield."   
  
Thor laughed once more, stepping forward he patted Myra on the head. His gigantic mitt nearly engulfing her entire head.   
  
"To be a spear, you'd need to be able to hit something." The mountain of a man teased.  
  
Huffing, Myra spun and tried to strike the deity. Missing in fantastic fashion she tumbled to the ground at her target's feet who had dodged with the most subtle of body movements.   
  
"On your feet, tiny warrior, we are burning daylight."  
  
Looking up to him Myra noticed her elder holding a hand out to her. Smiling she accepted it and he hauled her back to standing with no exertion at all. With that the pair took off towards one of the many training facilities and gyms on site where Myra had no doubt she would find herself falling to the ground over and over - but she didn't mind, she was simply and entirely glad of Thor's help. 

* * *

  
  
Pushing the hood back up a fond smile spread effortlessly across Myra's lips, folding her almond skin in a way that was rare for her... these days at least.  
  
_I'm burning daylight._ She thought almost mockingly and exited the closet, with one last longing glance around the room Myra made to leave. As she did, something caught her eye. On the wall, just to the right of the desk, was a photo frame. Slowly she crossed the room until she stood before the image.

She huffed out a laugh.

The A5 photograph, displayed in a black wooden frame, showed the pair stood side by side not long after they had met. Thor was adorning his full Asgardian garb, Myra her training gear. One of his huge muscular arms was thrown over her shoulders – she remembered how heavy the limb was even with him holding it up on the other end. Thor had insisted in the photo being taken, 'a memory' he had said 'that was worth treasuring forever'. A sudden hollow feeling bloomed in the young woman's chest.

_He kept this_ , _even after..._

Before she could stop her hands, she had removed the frame from the wall. It was perhaps a tad unfair of her to come into someone's room when they were absent and pilfer their belongings but she was only next door and when (if) Thor returned so would his items to his possession. Until then they had sentimental value and now more than ever Myra needed some comfort.

After closing up the spare room and placing the photo frame delicately on her own bedside table Myra treated herself to the cigarette she had set out to have about 15 minutes prior before getting sidetracked delving into someone else's belongings. Leaning over the balcony taking in the dull view and grey sky she mulled over what to do with her day. She needed to read that file, badly she did, but Myra didn't feel like reading. Perhaps it was the impact of her recalling simpler and happier times, or perhaps it was procrastination – but she favoured going for a work out over homework.

She didn't need to spend time convincing herself and spun to leave dotting her cigarette butt out on the wall and dropping it down to an ashtray still in place from her time here before.

* * *

  
  
F.R.I.D.A.Y guided Myra to the least occupied gym in the facility as per her request. The space was wide and open, there were training matts covering the floor, a large mirror took up the entirety of the back wall. There was a litany of equipment: weigh benches, cycling and rowing machines, leg press and extension machines... Myra decided to use her warm up as time to pick her poison for her work out.  
  
After stretching and doing some light circuits back and forth on the training matts she headed towards the weight bench. Myra was a short woman, barely grazing 5 foot 3 inches, but she had always prided herself on her muscular stature. In her youth she was lean and quick - she had to be - but as she aged and more so after her run in with Mjolnir she started putting effort into making her physical form as much of a power house as her inhuman abilities. She wasn't stacked, not by a long shot, but her arms and legs were firm. Her stomach was tight and cut lightly by toned abs. Her shoulders were broad and strong but not bulging with muscle. Strength training seemed more apt in the run up to this mission, Tony's warning niggling in the back of her mind. The easiest way to avoid casualties was to fight with her fists not her powers, but then if she was backed into a corner... Myra shook off the thought, stretching her arms thoroughly before swapping out the weights on the barbell. She didn't know who had worked out here last but she assumed it had to be one of the two super soldiers. It was loaded with nearly 300 kg. Pulling off one of the 50kg weights Myra stumbled to the side, lifting the weight up and close to her chest she walked it back to the rack - A mini workout before the real thing. She repeated this action until the barbell was cleared, and wiping a light sweat from her brow re-loaded the bar with 40kg over all, balancing 20kg on each side.   
  
She lowered herself on to the bench and spent a moment adjusting her hands to the right position before she sucked in a breath and pushed up, lifting the bar from the stand above her and bringing it down close to her chest. Slowly letting out a breath Myra counted to 3 seconds before pushing the bar back up into the air and repeating. She carried this on until her brow was slick with sweat and her face was becoming increasingly red. 15 reps she had managed before she stood to stretch and take a long drink of water. After she caught her breath she laid back down and did one more set before once again standing, stretching and rehydrating. Her arms felt like jelly.   
  
Myra rubbed her face with a towel to dry her sweat from her brow. Deciding to switch things up she took a small tour of the gym, spending a short while using each piece of equipment before she finally came back to the weight bench. She pondered how much she could lift, given the opportunity. Perhaps she could try more? Opting not to over do it she added a further 2.5kg on each side rounding the total weight at 45kg. She knew that was heavy for someone of her stature to lift, but she felt like she could managed it. She herself only weighed roughly 15kg or so more than that, and besides she only wanted to lift it once to prove she could.  
  
Towelling her hands Myra laid down and prepared to lift the barbell. As she lifted the bar her arms shook and she let out a tremendous breath as she lowered the bar to her chest then after a couple of pained moments replaced it on the stand.  
  
Success.  
  
Now how much more could she lift?  
  
Hopping up Myra added a further 1kg to each side. 47kg.  
  
Even though the addition was only slight Myra felt the difference, struggling to lift the bar from the stand initially before she set her jaw and heaved it up. She didn't wait to replace the bar pushing straight back up and setting it back down.  
  
_Let's see if I can do 60,_ she challenged herself.  
  
Swapping out some of the weights Myra raised the overall weight to 60kg. Practically her own body weight.  
  
She laid back down.

  
Once more her arms trembled under the weight as she tried to lift the bar from the stand. She replaced it momentarily to give herself a second to reposition her hands.  
  
With a deep breath she pushed once more, lifting the bar in shaking arms up into the sky.   
  
She didn't feel like she could bend them to bring the bar down to her chest and took another breath intending to replace the bar.  
  
Then the door swung open.   
  
Suddenly distracted Myra's arms folded and brought the heavy bar down on her chest.  
  
The wind was knocked from her lungs.  
  
"Fuck." She wheezed. Closing her eyes as she tried to suck in a breath.  
  
Her hands still clasped around it she intended to roll the bar down to her stomach so she could sit up around it... but she didn't get the opportunity.   
  
With a quiet mechanical grinding noise the weight was lifted from her exhausted frame. She peered up to meet the stark blue eyes of the Winter Solider. Her blood went cold. He was holding the barbell in one hand, plating on the vibranium arm shifted to redistribute the weight, whirring as they moved. It was effortless for him...   
  
_He could pick me up with one hand..._  
  
"You should really have a spotter," He advised quietly, replacing the bar on the stand. "You could have gotten hurt." He offered the same metal arm down to Myra, snapping her out of her daze she shoved it away.  
  
"I don't need your help."  
  
The soldier looked taken aback, he thought she may have warmed to him at least a little after he openly supported her in front of everyone else but clearly that wouldn't be enough for the fierce woman. He shrugged at her as she moved away to get her water bottle, rubbing her chest where the bar had fallen. He eyed the barbell. 60kg?  
  
_She can't weigh any more than that..._  
  
"That's a hell of a weight for someone your size." He commented.  
  
Myra swallowed her water and turned back towards him. She raised one manicured brow into a high arch.  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
_Nice one, Buck_. He thought bitterly. He clearly took too long to respond as the aggravated woman continued.  
  
"For your information I was doing just fine until you came barging in here."  
  
"No one uses this gym but me... usually."  
  
Myra looked back to the weight bench, that meant she had been right. She eyed the super soldier's metal arm carefully, wondering if he was able to lift the 300kg with that arm alone or if he used both. He was a goliath of a man, and the muscles on his flesh arm were large and toned. She'd seen footage of him fighting too, and despite his obvious power and size he was also fast and precise.   
  
_The perfect killing machine_.   
  
Myra hadn't noticed herself staring until Bucky shifted his weight from one leg to the other and looked around the room.  
  
"Do you mind if I join you?" He sounded almost shy.  
  
Myra nodded, she was about to warm down and leave anyway. Though her curiosity had been piqued as to what kind of regimen produced... _that_. So she found an excuse to stay, catching her breath and rehydrating she took up a stance before the large well used punching bag. There were some notable pits on the left side of the sack that hadn't reformed after it's previous beatings. _And they think I'm dangerous_. She mused.  
  
Refocusing Myra threw a couple of sets of jabs toward the bag, mixing in a circuit of hooks alternatively as well loving the burn across her back as she stretched her lats and trapezius muscles. She sped up alternating the kind of punches she was throwing with the occasional high kick to the side of the bag.   
  
As she threw one more kick her body dipped and she caught sight of Barnes watching from the weight bench.  
  
"What?" She spat pointedly, righting herself.  
  
Bucky stood and walked towards her.  
  
"You think Thor trains with a punching bag?"  
  


Myra crossed her arms, eyebrow once again raised at the older man.  
  
"Why do you think I'd care how Thor trains?"  
  
"I heard you asking about him. The ' _big man_ ', that's Thor... right?" It was a genuine question, maybe he'd misunderstood what she had asked Tony before the briefing last night. His brief delve through Myra's files had left him with a lot of questions, including what kind of relationship she had once had with the God of Thunder. Surely they'd had to have met?  
  
She remained arms crossed, staring at him. Bucky stepped closer till he was next to the punching bag. Myra didn't break eye contact once.  
  
"I'm sure he trains with other people, how about we spar while we're both here?"  
  
"I don't need your help." She repeated. Turning back to the bag and ignoring him.  
  
He sighed, holding his flesh hand out to steady the bag and stop her from striking it again.  
  
"Look you're going out in to the field, you might need the practise." He offered.  
  
Bucky didn't get a response. Instead Myra pivoted on her back foot and threw a punch towards his face. Reflexively his Vibranium arm snapped up to grab her wrist catching the clenched fist mere inches from his nose.   
  
His eyes snapped down to where Myra was pulling her leg back to throw a knee into his guts.   
  
Dipping his right shoulder, Bucky barged forward into the girl, still grasping her wrist tight with his left hand. As he connected he hiked Myra up over his shoulder, and as her body weight flipped over his back he released her wrist.  
  
Myra landed flat on her back with a heavy thud.  
  
Bucky rubbed his face, slowly turning to face the girl.  
  
"That's not exactly-"  
  
He was cut short as he faced Myra. She flipped onto her stomach, pulled her legs underneath her and scrambled forward, propelling herself up to tackle Bucky around his waist.  
  
His eyes widened in shock as the pair hit the floor, his hands instinctively coming up to hold Myra's sides. He didn't get a chance to speak as the she pulled her legs up to straddle him and threw another punch towards his head.  
  
He rolled his head to the side to dodge it but as soon as he had another fist flew towards him.   
  
Dodging upwards he threw his head into her collarbone, using the momentum to flip them both so he was on top of her: powerful legs trapping her's between them.  
  
Myra growled up at the man, squirming as she tried to strike him again.  
  
Bucky seized both her wrists in his metal hand, pinned them down to her chest as she flailed.  
  
"That isn't going to work." He commented dryly watching her struggle.  
  
He locked his eyes onto hers. Myra's pupils were blown wide, but not in fear. There was fury in those amber orbs as she gave one last hard pull to try free her hands.  
  
Bucky felt a tingling over his skin. Lifting his flesh hand closer to his face he watched as the hairs stood on end.  
  
Realisation hit him too late and before he could react Myra gritted her teeth and tensed.  
  
Her eyes erupted into twinkling blue stars and she turned her hands to grab his metal wrist.  
  
**_Kzzzzzzzzzzt_**  
  
Bucky felt a jolt in his chest like he'd been struck. His vibranium arm whirred as the metal plating locked and gave out, dropping his bodyweight down to the floor.  
  
In one swift movement Myra pulled her legs up between his thighs and threw her weight upwards to topple him over onto his back again.  
  
She scrambled to her feet, hair tie snapping as a surge of electricity whipped through her hair setting it free.   
  
Her brown locks slunk up into the air like snakes under the force of the energy surging through the strands - haloing behind her like a lion's mane.  
  
She was a sight to behold, but Bucky didn't have time to admire her strength as she pulled back her left leg to deliver a blow to his ribs.   
  
Quickly he threw his flesh hand out to grab her other ankle and gave it a sharp tug.  
  
Myra fell backwards, and as her frame connected with the ground once more a tremendous wave of electricity blasted out of her, bursting light bulbs outwards from where she fell.   
  
The pair lay, breathing heavily, on the floor; The surviving lights flickering above them.  
  
Bucky clenched his metal fist until movement started to come back. He raised the arm up in front of him, inspecting his metal digits as he regained full control.   
  
He heard Myra start to shift, and pushed himself up to stand, but she remained on the floor.  
  
"Colour me impressed." He complimented. Moving to offer Myra his flesh hand.  
  
She ignored it. Standing by herself she stretched her arms over her head.  
  
"You were pulling your punches." She remarked, turning back to her pile of belongings and taking a heavy drink.  
  
Bucky took the opportunity to sit on a bench. She'd surprised him, but he found her actions to be just as Tony has described. She wasn't as strong as Thor, not just physically but her electrical power was only enough to lock up his arm whereas the same close range attack from Thor would have rendered him unconscious... or dead. That, and her control was poor. As soon as her focus was shifted from him, as she started to fall, Myra had lost control of the energy she had stored up dispersing it in a blast around her. Despite that she had proved a worthwhile opponent, with some basic training she'd be very effective.   
  
Bucky was snapped from his thoughts as he noticed Myra gathering her things and slipping into a hoodie that was far too big for her. She popped a cigarette between her lips and started heading for the door.  
  
"Hey." He called out to her. Sighing she stopped and half turned towards him.   
  
"I'm here about the same time every morning, if you want a rematch." He offered.  
  
Myra watched him for a moment, before nodding at him then turning to leave again.  
  
As the door swung closed behind her Bucky stood, making his way back towards the gym equipment. That had proved a good warm up. 

* * *

  
**19:00 - The** **Guest Wing**

Myra groaned heavily as she stared down at the coffee table. Upon it's smooth surface was scattered tens of pages of paper. She was seated on one of the deep comfortable couches, pillows stacked behind her back to dissuade her from leaning back and getting too cosy. She knew herself well enough to know that the second she did, she'd end up napping. She'd already had the pantomime of convincing herself she could concentrate with the tv on... or muted... it now sat silent after Myra had realised that she'd been distracted for nearly 10 minutes trying to find a music channel she liked to have in the background and had made absolutely no progress on reading the contents of the manilla folder. It had been the task she set herself for the afternoon and she had managed to procrastinate doing everything and anything but study.  
  
Taking a hearty drink from her mug of coffee to prepare, Myra once again leaned down and seized the first page of her briefing. She had already tried to absorb the words printed upon it with little success but knew she had to keep trying. She was never good at reading, more a learn-by-doing than a learn-by-reading type.  
  
_Martina Hernandez._   
Sigh.  
  
Myra already knew she'd flop and introduce herself as Myra to someone, best add coming up with an excuse for that to her long to-do list. She was just praying that she was the only latin American in her class so she didn't answer to Rodriguez instead of Hernandez.   
  
_Born in Juárez_ \- that wasn't too far removed from the truth. Myra's mother was a Mexican national who had lived in Chihuahua nearly all her life until finally crossing into the US at El Paso border. Her cover story would have her living there until she was 9, perhaps that was long enough for an accent to work out of her system? Though she spared a thought to her mama who despite living across the border for over two decades still had a noticeable Mexican accent. Another sigh slipped from her lips, she would likely need to change her speech too, her Spanish was fluent but far from practised in recent years.   
  
Myra continued to read, attempting to commit her new date of birth to memory, along with the name of her first pet, her siblings, her fake parents and their jobs. In between each section she glugged ever cooling coffee until she reached and found the cup empty.  
  
" _Hijo de puta."_ She spat  
  
Reluctantly she dragged herself to her feet and made toward the kitchen to refill her supply; Repeating inane details over and over to herself in an attempt to have them stick in her brain.

 _May 9 th. Inca. Maria, Oscar, David. Her mother was Juliet, a seamstress, her father... David?_ Does that mean her 'brother' is David Jr or just David too?

Myra growled splashing a little of the dark liquid onto the kitchen side. She grabbed the kitchen towel and cleaned up her mess, fully intending to sit back down and continue reading when there was a ping overhead preempting F.R.I.D.A.Y's calm voice.

“Miss Rodriquez, Ms Maximoff is here to see you.”

A smile spread over her lips again. “Send her in F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

Leading against the counter Myra watched as Wanda swanned in, arms laden with boxes.

“You moving in?” She laughed, swigging her coffee before wandering over to help as Wanda placed the first few boxes on the closest couch.

“No, you are.” Her friend smiled back to her, raising her hand out to the side and with an accompanying red glow used her powers to lift another 6 large boxes and suitcases into the open space. Myra was gobsmacked. “You cleared out my apartment?” She asked, already on her knees rooting through the containers.

Wanda had plopped herself down on a stool by the breakfast bar, helping herself to a cup of coffee from the pot Myra had just prepared.

“It's taken me and Clint all day, so you're welcome.”

Clothes, books, toiletries, makeup, shoes, even some framed photos and ornaments. All the home comforts she could have wanted to pack from her poxy apartment. The box she was delving into contained candles and some of her large crystals where she found to her delight a palm sized chunk of Selenite her mother had once gifted her. This would help add to her cover at the college campus as this Selenite was taken from a cave in Chihuahua. The Cueva de los Cristales as it was creatively named.

“You're the best, Wanda, thank you.” Myra praised softly.

The red head smiled up over the rim of her coffee mug, “There's a lot, do you want help unpacking too?”

“Would you mind?” Wanda shook her head, “Of course not.” She stood and joined Myra as the pair gazed over the array of boxes, bags and other storage units the reality of the enormity of the task set in. Even with Wanda's powers this would take all night. Myra took one glance back to the paperwork on the coffee table.

_May 9 th. Inca. Maria... David.... fuck it. _

It could all wait until tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:  
> Bucky and The Captain have a talk.  
> Clint teaches Myra a new skill.  
> Tony's concern grows.
> 
> As always please comment and leave a kudos if you are enjoying and want to see more.  
> Massive love to anyone that has come back to read another chapter, you folk are the best.  
> S.T.
> 
> xo


	5. (5) Sharp Shooter.

**7:30**  
**Avengers Compound**  
**5 days until deployment**

It was a cool morning in Upper State New York. A light mist pulsed and writhed as it twisted around the compound, in between buildings and cloaking the open spaces between. The sprawling complex of offices, bunkers and hangars were connected by a long winding path. In amongst the throngs of low cloud a figure could occasionally be seen, setting a punishing pace along the concrete. The speed at which the figure moved was inhuman, and the fog made it seem more like they were teleporting than moving by mortal means. But the truth was stranger than fiction, as thundering through the haze was a 100 year old war veteran with an arm made of alien metal.

Sergeant Barnes was dressed in a tight fitting shirt, not so subtly branded by Underarmour, a pair of shorts that settled above his knees, black trainers, and was sporting his hair pulled back into a bun. His chest heaved pushing more clouds out into the surrounding grey as he maintained the same rapid pace he had for the 3 laps of the compound he had already made. 

He'd arrived at the gym the same time, but didn't have a gym partner waiting for him as he had the day before. After seeing dutifully to the equipment available the Sergeant decided to extend his work out by going for a jog. However a jog to a super soldier as enhanced as he meant travelling much faster than most, for further and longer. 

As he ran Bucky realised that he couldn't keep his mind off the curious Myra Rodriguez. No matter what he tried - counting his strides, focusing on the sounds around him, listening to his own heartbeat - he couldn't stop his mind straying to the the tiny, feisty woman who had suddenly been dropped into his life. There had been a noticeable change in the atmosphere within the compound since her arrival. Steve had been busying himself constantly since their altercation in the briefing room and he hadn't seen much at all of the others apart from Sam and Steve, who he shared a wing with. 

It was bizarre to him how one person could have such an impact on everyone else by not seeming to do a whole lot wrong. Sure, she had a prickly attitude and hadn't been the pinnacle of politeness in the meeting, but the girl had outright swung for him and he bore her no ill will. This gave more weight to the question that had been burning in his mind since he'd delved in to Myra's files. _What did she do?_

Finally, his thoughts were torn away from the site's new resident as heavy footsteps approached quickly from behind. Spinning to run backwards Bucky saw the smiling face of his friend hurtling toward him. 

"Bet I can beat you to the hangar." Steve chided as he approached, Bucky grinned back to him, turning on his heel and pushing himself into a sprint as he heard the Captain catching up fast from behind.  
As he leant forward into the run Steve came up level with him, the pair exchanging but a glance as they both stuck their heads down and accelerated as much as possible towards the larger hangar that sat about 100 meters away.

As the final few lengths grew closer the race was completely head to head, the two super soldiers had to throw on the breaks as they approached the huge looming surface of Hangar 2 so as to not crash through the walls. Jumping slightly both veterans slapped their hands onto the massive 2 that was sprayed onto the sheet metal causing a loud bang that reverberated through the hangar. The pair hit the ground, doubling over and holding their knees trying to catch their breath. It took another super soldier to give a Bucky a proper work out. Side stepping closer Steve clapped a hand onto Bucky's back. 

"Can we call that a draw?"  
"No, I definitely beat you." Bucky laughed back. 

"A rematch then, I can do this all day"  
"- do this all day. I know" Bucky spoke over his friend, already knowing exactly what we was going to say.   
"Fine we'll call it a draw then, punk."

Laughing together the pair recovered and began a slow walk back to the compound. Bucky and Steve had know each other all their lives, so silences between them were rarely awkward. However today Bucky got the distinct feeling Steve was leaving something unsaid; He was watching his feet as he walked, not even looking around, and he was scowling ever so slightly. It was evident to him that his friend was struggling to find the words to bring up a topic, and he had a suspicion he knew the subject, with that he broke the silence first.

"Sparred with the new kid yesterday," He saw Steve look up in his peripheral. "See why Stark wanted her, she can certainly handle herself."

He turned to fully meet his friend's gaze, he looked... concerned. The Captain sighed deeply before he responded.

"Just be careful with her, Buck. She isn't..." Bucky stopped and his companion ceased his forward stride. He watched as Steve ran a hand down his face. "...she isn't... stable."

The warning brought back that uncomfortable churning in his stomach.

_Stability._

It was a funny concept. He knew for a fact that anyone with a moderately convincing Russian accent and the time to memorize 10 words could crack his mind before he'd have chance to react, but he stood now completely in control. How were they any different? Even after his time in Wakanda, how could he be sure...

Bucky shifted his weight to his other leg.

"Despite all of Shuri's work... we have no way of knowing if I'm stable." 

Now the silence that fell between the pair _was_ uncomfortable. 

Bucky hadn't meant to call out his friend, but he felt it was worth saying. Unless someone was going to enlighten him that Myra too was a sleeper agent with a brain hardwired by insurgent trigger words he was certain he carried more risk with him than she could.

Steve looked mortified, a glint of sadness shone in his blue eyes. "No, Buck. She's different. You're. You." He stumbled over his words, clearly feeling put on the spot. Bucky began walking again, they were close to the pavilion to the rear of the main building. There was a raised area of decking, with a large fire pit and ample seating. Perhaps that was a better spot for what the Sergeant hoped would be an enlightening conversation. 

The Captain trudged behind his mountainous companion silently until they reached the outside plaza. Bucky slung himself onto one of the benches, kicking his feet up onto the ridge that surrounded the empty fire pit. Half burned logs and ash were all that remained as evidence of the space's last use. 

Steve dropped himself onto the bench opposite.

A hush fell between them again, he'd never known Steve to appear so uncomfortable to address something. 

"What's the deal with her, Steve?" He watched his friend's reaction as he sat arms crossed. 

"She has a history of making some pretty questionable choices." He began

"She's young, isn't that normal?"

"Yes, but _she_ isn't normal. Look, I know I'm coming off as if I have a grudge against Myra but I really don't, Buck. I'm just worried."

"Why?" A short response, but Steve was dancing around the point.

"When Myra first came here she was full of life, enthusiasm. She wanted to be an Avenger, to get strong and help people...but she was hard to train."

Bucky brought his legs back down and leant forward. Raising an eyebrow to silently ask for more details.

"She loses control too easily, if she gets angry... or scared. It's... It can be dangerous."

Bucky cast his mind back to their altercation. Myra had used her ability to get the upper hand against him and only seemed out of control when her focus was pulled away. Steve continued.

"Myra has a short fuse, that's not something people in our position can afford to have. Even after all the effort we put in to her we couldn't change that."

_We?_

"So you were involved with her? The first time she was here?" That was his in. So far Steve had only told him what he already knew or could guess. Steve wasn't coming across too willing to give information about the girl's past, likely to do with the secretive _Incident 2597._

"We all welcomed Myra. Everyone worked with her and she was a willing student at the start."

The Captain cleared his throat and shifted his legs. 

"Look, Buck. You need to take charge with her. If Myra gets an inch she will take a mile. Tony has given her a dangerous loophole-"

"About killing people?" Bucky jumped in, clocking the change of topic. Steve hummed in response.

"Steve, how likely is she to kill that many people. Really? She doesn't look like a killer."

"Well...she is. I don't want to call her 'cold blooded', but her trigger finger is certainly itchy."

Bucky shifted his gaze to the pile of scorched leavings. Steve was still keeping details from him. Perhaps he had dug enough for one day. Maybe he needed to take a different approach...

Steve rose from his seat with a sigh.

"Following her lead isn't a good idea, bud. She will lead you straight off a cliff onto the rocks below. Stick to the plan, whether she likes it or not."

He turned to leave, and gave his final words over his shoulder.

"That way, if this mission fails, it will be on her, not you."

As Steve walked away Bucky stared more intently at the ash and burnt debris until his eyes settled on a cigarette butt which lay, unburnt, on the side of the pit. Reaching out his metal hand he flicked the brown tip into the black powder, watching the plume of soot that shot up into the air as it landed get swept away in the breeze. 

His attention was yanked skywards suddenly as a huge flash illuminated the stark white clouds. Faintly behind him he could hear shouting in the fields to the rear of the main building. _Lightning?_ A second flash, bigger and brighter than the last made him leap to his feet. _Myra._

* * *

**07:00**

Myra had risen early fully intending to accept Barnes' challenge of a rematch, but after a late night unpacking her life into the guest wing she felt less than enthusiastic about physical exertion especially in the cool early hours. More-so, because she had discovered while showering that her ass cheek was a delightful shade of purple after it's abrupt introduction to the floor of the gym the day before. Today, she had decided, she would fully immerse herself in the briefing materials now that her living space had a more familiar feel, maybe she would be comfortable enough to focus properly. 

A shower, a healthy breakfast and an unhealthy cigarette later she was once more poised upon the couch browsing through the paperwork - this time with a frozen bag of peas under her backside.

Details were now starting to stick. The trick, she found, was to think of her own family members as these fictitious ones. She had faces she could assign new names too, and thankfully (and probably purposefully) her cover identity had a not too dissimilar backstory to her own. Today's task was to cement in her head why she would be at college this far North, what she wanted to be when she was 'older' and learn some basics of the course she would be taking, which would be... 

"Fucking Physics." Myra exclaimed, staring angrily down at the paper before her. She was a high school drop out, how in the hell was she going to convince anyone she'd been accepted into a degree course with her tatters of knowledge. Rubbing a hand down her face she conceded that this cover identity was going to take a lot more work than she had originally thought. But she wasn't one to shy away from a challenge. Perhaps Tony or Dr Banner would have a spare hour or two to teach her the basics. With that thought in mind she rose from her position, grabbed the giant hoodie from the back of a kitchen stool and headed out the door

F.R.I.D.A.Y was in the process of guiding Myra to Dr Banner's office when she rounded a corner straight into the chest of Clint Barton. Stumbling back she looked up to Hawkeye's bemused face. 

"Morning kid."

"Clint." She mirrored her cold greeting from the briefing earlier in the week, making to move around him and carry on.

"What are you doing up so early?" He continued as she started heading down the corridor again. She turned back to him noticing he had his bow and full quiver slung over his shoulder.

"Erm... wanted to ask Bruce if he could teach me some bits about physics."

Clint raised an eyebrow, Myra realised then that perhaps the others hadn't been privy to the contents of her briefing documents.

"They've enrolled me on a Physics course, and dude I have no idea how I'm gonna bluff my way through that." She laughed nervously.

"You know more than you think, kid." He chuckled back to her. She tilted her head, confused. 

"What do you think your powers are?"

"Erm... electricity?" 

Clint gave a genuine laugh, stepping closer.

"The physics of electricity? You will definitely know more than you think, unless you've fluked your way through the last few years?" 

Myra rubbed the back of her neck, laughing back to the man.

"Well I don't know, there's always a possibility." 

Clint stepped forward, putting a hand on Myra's shoulder as he did.

"Come on, let's go try something."

Myra paused and watched the older man walking down the corridor, a light smile graced her dark lips and she trotted after him.

* * *

Clint lead Myra out onto the fields to the rear of the main compound building. She tugged the oversized hoodie closer around her form, grabbing onto the ends of her sleeves to shield her hands from the morning chill. She gazed around in awe at the throngs of fog which hung motionless on the air a few feet from the dewy grass. The sight was almost ethereal. 

In front of her, Clint shrugged his bow down into his grip, using it to gesture outwards to the mist.

"Fog is your friend." She moved closer to him. "Water is a great conductor of electricity, and what are clouds?" He looked to her for an answer.

"Erm... water vapour, right?"

He nodded, "Sure, and fog is the same. You should have more ease directing your power in cloudy or foggy weather."

Clint reached backwards, pulling an arrow from the quiver behind him. He turned it in his hand before holding it out towards Myra. She grabbed the ammunition in one caramel hand, turning it this way and that with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm familiar with arrows, yes."

"Look what it is made from."

She stared harder at the implement. It was light to hold, she vaguely remembered a conversation between Clint and Tony about materials for a new specialised bow some years ago.

"Carbon Fibre, right?"

"That's right. Aluminium / Carbon Fibre blend. Highly conductive."

Myra was beginning to see where this was going.

"As I remember, you opt for more of a 'spray and pray' approach to your abilities."

Myra deadpanned. "Well I wouldn't quite phrase it like that."

"You've proved you can cover a wide area with an attack, the conditions are just right for us to try practise more precise shots." He loaded his bow, drawing the arrow back in the string. "Hit this." With a twang, Clint sent the arrow sailing into the fog. 

Reaching a hand out Myra attempted to gather her power to the arrow. There was a loud crackle as static cascaded down her braided hair, flicking the end of the pony tail with the force, but all she could manage was a small discharge in the area immediately around her.

She growled under her breath. "I wasn't ready." She mumbled, but Hawkeye was already stringing another arrow.

"Again."

The arrow flew upwards.

With energy already flowing freely through her form Myra raised her arm again, palm outstretched. Spark filled eyes locked on the the fast moving object.

_**Kzzzzzzzzt** _

Electricity sparked and whirled around her, spiralling around her outstretched arm and outwards into the cloud cover as it swallowed the arrow whole. A brilliant white flash illuminated the fog.

Before she could say anything another arrow was flying skywards. A further cacophonous crackle was followed by a blast of electricity which reached the arrow just before it vanished from view. Although slight, a small electrical ark was visible for a split second before the clouds once more were set alight.

"Wooooo!!" Shouted Clint. "We need more precise!" He called, having to raise his voice over the low roar that the maelstrom of electrical current around Myra was causing. 

As she raised her hand again, awaiting a new projectile. Myra watched her hand. Focusing she pulsed energy into her palm and watched how the energy separated and spurted from the tip of each finger. Curious, she pointed two fingers upwards instead. What was the harm in trying?

Another arrow went zipping into the air, and this time as Myra forced the energy outwards there was less blowback. A visible thunderbolt shot from her fingertips striking the arrow dead on, before the current dispersed into the clouds with a bright flash.

The pair cheered loudly, and Myra turned to Clint with a wide toothy grin. 

"That's more like it!" He shouted to her, giving a thumbs up before grabbing three arrows from his quiver and loading them all in to the bow string. He nodded his head upwards, aware that it was near impossible to be heard over the noise emanating from Myra. It was an issue she only faced when she had to use her powers for a prolonged period without direct contact, the sheer force of that amount of energy spiralling through and around her caused a thunderous rumble as the current split the air.

 _Three targets._ Her mind started reeling as she watched Hawkeye pull back the bow string. _Three shots... or_?

Myra's thoughts were cut short as the arrows soared upwards, flying at three different trajectories. 

With a grit of her teeth, she brought her aching arm up in front of her once more, tensing her entire body to try push as much power into one singular shot as she could. 

The force with which Myra sent her electric projectile into the sky pushed her backwards by a few feet, her boots digging hard into the damp soft earth. Immediately dispersing all her pent up power outwards in a sparking fog.

The bright crackling missile struck the closest, lowest flying arrow dead on. The sky split as a huge arc of electricity snaked through the clouds to the next arrow, and then the next. Flames could barely be seen through the flash as the destroyed remains of the arrows fell back to earth.

Myra dropped to one knee. She was panting hard, the exertion had left her feeling weak and pained. Clutching her arm in front of her she didn't realise her ears had been ringing until Clint's voice slowly faded back in. He was excited, but she couldn't make out the words. She closed her eyes and rested her head against her other knee, breathing deeply to try recover faster. Her backside hurt from the position as the bruise stretched. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of burnt hair emanating from her arm, and rubbed her wrist to try soothe the growing ache.

A hand clapped down on her back, rubbing in slow circles. She raised her bleary amber eyes to meet Clint's.

"Amazing work kid, let's get you inside."

She managed but a nod as Clint linked his arm under her armpit and helped heft her up on to shaking legs.

Within a couple of steps Myra's vision blurred and began to black out as the ringing in her ears washed back in. Reaching a hand to Clint's chest she tapped it a few times before she dropped into darkness.

"Myra? Myra hey, hey!?" Clint felt the girl's body go limp at his side, but before he could react the dead weight pulled her down to the ground where he dropped to his knees to see to her. He lifted her arm, watching concerned as it dropped straight down. She was completely out. 

_I pushed her too hard_. Clint thought solemnly as he tried to organise his arms under Myra's floppy limbs to lift her up. It was a long walk back to the compound. 

"Barton!" He looked up to see a large figure approaching through the mist. The closer they grew the more recognisable the figure was and despite the lack of tactical gear they were often seen in Clint soon recognised the figure as Bucky.

* * *

Arriving within view Bucky took in the sight before him with growing concern. The flashes in the sky had grown in intensity and frequency the closer he'd gotten though he hadn't been able to make out the words being shouted between the pair over what sounded like a small jet engine roaring in the grey expanse.

The air was still abuzz with static, he felt it lift the hairs on his arm as he drew closer to where the second generation Mexican girl lay completely unconscious on the damp earth. He noticed her right arm looked singed, blackened slightly as though it had been burned. He took in Clint who was kneeling at Myra's side looking worried. He looked uninjured but Bucky noted the discarded bow to his side and the nearly empty quiver on his back.

“You hurt?” He asked Clint, who pulled a face of incredulity.

“She is.” He replied shortly, making to lift her again.

The look on Clint's face caught Bucky off guard.

“Let me help.” He mumbled, approaching the pair and earning himself another filthy look. “I can get her back faster.”

After a pregnant pause Clint silently conceded, standing to allow the super solider to take his place. Bucky squatted down, wriggling his arms under Myra's knees and upper back, scooping her effortlessly into his chest he rose to stand.

He looked to Clint, who had a finger pressed to his ear waiting on someone to answer on his comms piece. “Medbay.” He instructed shortly a he met Bucky's eyes.

Without further instruction Bucky set off with the tiny girl pulled tight to his chest. His initial thoughts upon seeing her in the gym the day before were confirmed. She was light though heavier than he expected. Now he held her in his arms he was very aware that the short woman was all muscle. Perhaps, he thought, she wasn't so stupid to try bench such a weigh after all.

The sergeant had already made a huge gap between him and Clint when he heard Clint speak from far behind him.

“Tony, the kid's hurt, we're bringing her in.”  
"We're bringing her in to the medbay." 

“No, no. Not as bad as last time.”

Bucky's ears pricked, but he was now too far away to hear the man behind him, so he focused on his breathing and the peaceful expression that graced Myra's lightly rounded face.

* * *

  
Deep in the belly of the Upstate Compound clanging and the whirring of a circular saw was interrupted by the piercing beeping of Tony's communicator which lay discarded on a messy worktop counter.   
  
Groaning, Tony looked up from the pile of metal and wires he was tinkering with and rolled his chair over to the offending area. Batting scraps out of the way to find the earpiece- he had thrown it down so as to not be disturbed. That clearly hadn't worked. Grumbling he slid the device back into his ear and pressed down to answer the message.  
  
"Do I need to send out a memo reminding people what do not disturb means-"  
  
"Tony, the kid's hurt, we're bringing her in"  
  
He stood from his seat and threw his eyes over to a large array of surveillance footage covering most angles of the compound. Eyes scanning frantically for the small girl or Clint. The gyms were clear, the hangar.... where were they?  
  
"We're bringing her in to the medbay."   
  
"Is it...."  
  


“No, no. Not as bad as last time.”  
  
Tony released a sigh of relief. "I'll get it ready. Hurry." The call disconnected and Tony made towards the medbay at a jog.  
  
"F.R.I.D.A.Y get Banner, tell him Myra's hurt."  
  
"Yes Mr Stark."  
  
A few turns and an elevator ride later and Tony arrived at the doors to the medbay. A bed was already available but Tony moved to pull equipment closer and grabbed a plethora of supplies from drawers and cabinets ready for whatever assortment of injuries his protege would arrive with.  
  
He cared for Myra, much as he cared for Peter. The children he never had, not that he would admit to it. But regardless of his emotions the fact stood clear. He brought them into this world of crime fighting and unfathomable danger - he was responsible if they got hurt.   
  
His chest ached with guilt. He'd been here before too often already. He'd watched Peter get flattened during his and Cap's scrap at the airport, after the kid had given everything he had fighting Tony's battle for him. And when Myra...   
  
Tony sighed heavily, rubbing his face with both hands he glanced back to the vacant bed. Remembering the last time he had seen Myra laid there...  
  


* * *

  
  
"She's losing blood!" Tony yelled as he jetted down the corridor in his full suit. Blood was spurting from a gaping wound in Myra's stomach, splattering up the Iron Man's helmet. "Fuck, she's losing so much blood." He mumbled, more to himself.   
  
Banner met him at the door as he landed, running the bleeding girl to the table and setting her down as gently as he could, hands slipping as Myra's clothes reached peak saturation with dark red fluid. Bruce immediately dived in to treating the girl.   
  
"Is she still with us!?" Came a cry from the door as Natasha and Steve slid round the corner into the bay. "Is she?" Natasha repeated.   
  
"Barely." Confessed Bruce, as he eyeballed the vitals monitor he now had hooked up to the rapidly paling girl on the bed.  
  
She dashed to Bruce's side, helping free Myra from her clothes so they could begin work saving her.  
  
Tony retracted his mask, watching frozen as they worked together to suture and cauterise Myra's cut artery. The laceration wasn't big, Natasha assured him, but it did nothing to alleviate his panic. The room was coated in her blood. It pooled dark and stinking on the floor around the bed she was being treated on and was smeared thickly up both Natasha and Bruce's arms.   
  
As the repair work finished stitching Myra's skin back together the vitals monitor let out a wail that caused everyone to jump out this skin. Myra's back arched upwards at an unnatural angle as a huge discharge of electricity blasted upwards out of her chest. The lights flickered hard and the equipment around the room flashed and rebooted.   
  
Steve ran forward to grab on to her legs as Myra began to convulse hard. "No no no" Bruce panicked, grabbing one of her arms, mirroring Natasha who was desperately trying to pin down the thrashing girl.  
  
"Tony take over!" Bruce cried, but the man didn't move. His face was contorted in horror as he watched his teammates feet splash in the puddle of blood on the floor.  
  
"Tony snap out of it!" Shouted Steve, looking round from where he was successfully pinning down Myra's legs and hips.  
  
"TONY."  
  


* * *

  
  
"Tony!" Cried Bruce, as he came charging in to the room, breaking the billionaire from his reverie. "What's going on where is she?"  
  
Before he could answer the sound of heavy footsteps drew nearer and Tony was surprised when he saw Barnes round the corner cradling Myra in his arms.  
  
_No blood._ He noted, relieved.  
  
Bucky brought the girl to the side of the bed as Clint arrived at the door. The solider heard Clint explaining quietly what had happened out on the field, he could've done with listening in but he was too focused on the unconscious body he was holding tight to his chest.  
  
"Lay her down Sarg." Bruce requested. Bucky complied instantly, gently setting Myra down onto the platform. He helped the Doctor remove her hoodie and attach pads to her chest and arms, but as Bruce reached for the hem of her shirt he hesitated looking around the room. Last time Natasha did this part. Bucky grunted grabbing the remaining two monitor pads from him and pulling the hem of Myra's training top up. He attached them either side of her abdomen nodding to Bruce who made to stick an IV drip into Myra's arm and injected her with an unknown substance.  
  
Bucky looked to Tony and Clint who seemed to be in a hushed but heated debate over... something. Though there was probably no points for guessing it was over Myra.   
  
A light moan brought his attention back to the girl on the bed. She writhed slightly but remained dead to the world. As he looked back over her, looking for any more injuries, he noticed discoloured skin on Myra's midriff where her top hadn't laid back properly. Reaching a hand down he pulled the top up again and traced the outline of a scar with his thumb. It ran like a ravine from the top of her hip bone up to under the cover of the t-shirt but Bucky wasn't about to lift it any higher. Even healed the skin was raised and angry. A hell of a war wound. _Is this what happened 'last time'?_ He was finding, much to his frustration, that the questions he had kept increasing while the answers were not forthcoming. The solider glanced up to the monitor and noted all signs were normal.   
  
Tony stepped up to the bed, looking too to the monitor and sighing. "Do you think the anticonvulsants will work?"  
  
Bruce hummed, "They should, but it might mean that 'Sparky' ain't so sparky for a few days."   
  
Tony nodded, grabbing one of Myra's small hands in his and watching her face for any signs of discomfort.   
  
Bucky cleared his throat, "I'll leave her with you." And took himself to the door. Tony didn't stop him, he was grateful that the Sergeant had brought her in but he was more concerned with keeping his eyes on the girl than patting Barnes on the back.  
  
Once Bruce was happy Myra was stable he too left, leaving Tony alone with the unconscious girl.   
  
After half an hour the beep of the heart monitor became white noise to him as he sat on the edge of the bed slowly losing himself in his thoughts. Clint had let her go too hard. He thought past experience was enough for those who knew Myra to know better than letting her go all out, she was determined to her own detriment sometimes. Though in her short stay Myra had already shown restraint; He had reviewed the surveillance footage of her and Barnes' encounter in the floor 2 gym and was pleased to see her using her abilities in a defensive manner even if he'd had to arrange for the replacement of 16 light bulbs.  
  
Moreso he was happy to see that the Sergeant very clearly wasn't put off by everyone else's attitude towards her. He was certain that Steve will have spoken to his friend, and Tony knew all too well the disdain the Captain carried for Myra, but whatever was said Bucky didn't seem to have a problem sparring with her and helping her when she was hurt. Something that would be vital once she was deployed...  
  
Another involuntary sigh rattled through his chest, rubbing his free hand down his face. Perhaps Cap was right. Maybe she wasn't ready. This was meant to be her big chance but even before she had her boots on the ground...he just wanted everyone else to see what he saw in her. The potential, the drive...   
  
Tony was stirred from his thoughts as the girl on the bed groaned and wriggled her legs.   
  
He squeezed her hand as she woke.   
  
"Enjoy your nap?" He teased.  
  
Groggily opening her eyes Myra raised her middle finger on her free hand to him. Tony chuckled, releasing the hand he held and allowing her to push herself to sitting.  
  
She looked to her arm where the IV drip sat and groaned. "Gross, this is too much..." she pulled the tube out and winced as blood oozed from the hole. "... you overreacted." She chided.  
  
Tony rolled his eyes. "Can you blame me after your performance last time."  
  
She playfully glared at him. "That was one time." She looked around the room recognising her location as the medbay in the main building. Tony stood to fetch a cup of water. "Clint carried me all this way?" Tony returned handing to cup to her, which she began guzzling straight away.  
  
"No, Barnes did." Myra choked lightly, swallowing the water with a big gulp.  
  
"Right? Where'd he come from?" She didn't remember him being out on the field.  
  
"He turned up after you scrambled your brain and passed out."   
  
Myra turned her hands in front of her. Her right wrist hurt, but she remembered arcing electricity through the sky, and smiled softly.  
  
"I think I learned something new."   
  
Tony smiled at her. "Can we try learning new things in a slightly less chaotic manner?"  
  
Myra laughed, it was a warm genuine sound that Tony hadn't heard in a long time, and it made him laugh too.  
  
The pair agreed she was with it enough to make her way back to her quarters- but Tony still escorted her. Upon her arrival she promised to go to bed straight away and rest a bit more for the day. A promise she kept easily only making it as far as the couch before she flopped on her side and passed out again.   
  
Tony arrived back at his workshop and threw himself down in his chair. It was around 10am and he already felt ready to call it a day. Sitting up and rubbing his face, Tony's eyes fell upon a pile of scrap laying on the central table. Scooting forward he picked up the prototype. _Needs more wrist support._ "Looks like we already need a MKII." He mumbled pulling up a holoarray and beginning his tinkering once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Life has been an endless string of big changes recently so I'm trying my best to update as quick as I can but you know, such is life.
> 
> Next time:
> 
> Myra is put through more intense training  
> As always if you liked please leave a kudos and a comment. Even if it's just a smiley face it lets me know I am on the right track. 
> 
> Thank you,  
> S.T xo


	6. (6) Spectator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hello! 
> 
> Just a wee update for now. This was act 1/3 in the next chapter but I word counted and it was going to become far too long so decided to upload this as a little stand alone so you aren't waiting too long for another update.
> 
> It's been another incredibly fraught month (over a month, sorry). I've actually moved away from home and started a new job then here in the UK we have gone back in to lockdown so I've had a lot on - but then again who hasn't this year.
> 
> Please enjoy - I can see my writing style starting to develop so you may see differences as the story progresses along
> 
> x

Once Myra awakened after her short trip to the medbay she spent the rest of the remaining afternoon beached out on the couch reading through her files. Her brief and rather dramatic physics lesson from Clint lead her to google the basics: Newton's laws, thermodynamics, kinematics... most of it went over her head but with some late night reading she was confident she could get at least high school level knowledge to settle. Myra was not unintelligent by any means. She was up on current events, understood and engaged in politics, was interested in economics (mainly because it was a good barometer for what the new best targets in her money making schemes would be) and was street smart beyond a doubt – but she'd dropped out of high school so there were gaps in her academic knowledge she knew existed, but had previously no reason to fill. Though ignorant on some topics she was determined, and perhaps a little more education could help her get more of a handle on her powers.

Her wrist hurt – a dull ache that throbbed particularly hard when she moved her hand too sharply – and it was the product of moving too far too fast. She'd impressed herself without a doubt but she'd have to work back up to that level so as to not to cause more damage. That, and coupled with her ass cheek she was aching all over.  
  
She woke early the next day, showered, ate and settled back in. 4 days to go before she was due to be dropped off at Aspen Heights. The logistics of the drop off were yet to be confirmed, likely because she bit Tony's hand off over Barnes posing as her 'partner'. The thought soured her tongue. Who in the hell came up with that anyway. She could drive herself in and unpack alone, but she'd need a car. Taking one of the SHIELD SUVs would draw a lot of unwanted attention so she'd have to clear the specifics with Tony before the big day.

Within the folder of information about her cover identity, there was also an abundance of information about the case built to far. She sighed as she withdrew a large photo of the victim from the bundle of paper. Deshaun Butler. He had been 19 years old. _So young._ He was a handsome boy. His skin was a deep brown and in this photo – a simple headshot from a family gathering – his eye sparkled with life. Bright and reflecting the wide smile he wore on his face. Just looking at him made her smile too, _I bet your laugh spread to everyone in the room, kid._

To her, details of the case that the Police had concluded felt... off. The thought of a student overdosing? Sad, but not beyond the realms of possibility. Back in her childhood she knew kids as young as 15 messing with crank, hell she was selling it by 16 herself. No, an overdose was plenty likely, on a new drug to the market too? A real risk you run trying new gear on the streets. No one knows what dose to take for the right high, take too much, you feel weird, try make it home, keel over in a park. But that didn't _feel_ right.

Myra started pulling up articles. Interviews around the case had focused on family, plenty of sad testimony from Deshaun's mother, his older sister, a naively cheerful quote from his toddler brother read “My brother's gonna be a 'norther [author]' which made Myra's eyes well up. _Nothing from any of his peers._ The fact wasn't too curious; You know what they say about snitches, yet it did not deter her. She pulled the laptop over to her from where it sat on the opposite edge of the coffee table. SHIELD systems had a fun little feature where you could easily identify accounts used and accessed by individuals when you had enough parameters to search with. Deshaun didn't have a Facebook, which would have been the perfect was to identify his 'friends' when she got to the campus. Though not many street smart folk have their dealers as friends online. His Instagram was the only real source of any information. It was set to private – a smart choice – and was evidently rarely used but one post stood out to her from roughly 6 weeks prior.

A photo posted of a small and tidy bedroom. The caption read – 'Glad amma be in digs this year wit my boys' followed by a string of emojis and hashtags. So he'd moved into a house with his friends for his second year at college. The post had 35 likes and 6 comments. Only one of the accounts that commented had any usable information. 'Tdog98'. ' _Gon be tight brotha'._

The account was public _,_ belonging to a young man named Tristan James Anderson. He had deep caramel skin and short dreads with an undercut. Many photos on his account showed him with a suspiciously long cigarette in his hand or lips, at parties or sat on a couch with a pretty girl on one side – or both. He liked to flex that was for sure. Myra memorised his face, he could be an in... if she could find him.

She delved a little further into regular 'likers' of TJ's content and although she spotted a few people cropping up over and over she found no more leads. A satisfying result, she hadn't expected to find anyone posing with a bag of the mystery drug but you could never be sure; Some people shared far too much online. Closing the laptop she returned to her paperwork. There was more to learn about who she was going to be before the big day without trying to solve the mystery of who their victim was before she'd even set foot on the scene.

* * *

It was early afternoon when Myra was interrupted from her studies by F.R.I.D.A.Y announcing she had a visitor. Laying down another bundle of paper she stood and made her way to the kitchen, asking the AI to allow the guest in. Myra was pouring herself a cup of coffee when Clint walked through to doors whistling obnoxiously. His good mood was sure to mean trouble.

“Café?” She asked, holding an empty cup up to him. He nodded, “Gracias señorita.” He smiled, as she began making him a cup too. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She didn't look up to him as she prepared his coffee – milk and two sugars. “Thought you could do with a leg stretch, so you don't seize up after yesterday.” Myra handed her elder his cup, taking a heavy drink from her own before responding. Her wrist hurt, her ass hurt, and she knew Clint well enough to know 'a leg stretch' wasn't going to be a sedate walk around the grounds. A sigh parted her lips as she set the warm vessel down on the counter.

“What did you have in mind?”

* * *

Within 10 minutes Myra had changed into gym gear, swapping her comfortable baggy joggers for a pair of close fitting gym leggings, and her equally oversized wool jumper for a short sleeve t-shirt (with accompanying sports bra beneath). Clint had waited patiently on one of her many couches sipping coffee and noseying at the paperwork she had abandoned on every surface in the living space.

She emerged from her bedroom, pulling the same huge hoodie around her form that she had been wearing for days now.

“Ready?”

“Sure whatever.” She rolled her eyes as Clint jumped to his feet excitedly.

He took her to the gym on the first floor which unlike the second floor gym that she had frequented in the past had more windows and natural light. The equipment was largely the same: an assortment of kit for strength, endurance and cardio training as well as an ample boxing ring. As she was setting down her hoodie, phone and water bottle Clint scuttled off to grab _something_. Said 'something' caused Myra's forced smile to totally drop from her face, as he re-emerged holding two long bo staffs.

Clint's laughter cloaked the string of exotic expletives pouring from Myra's mouth. She did **not** have an equal advantage here, not at all. Clint was an expert in two niche weapons: Bows and staffs. He was also good with guns (when he needed to use them) and was more than handy in a fist fight. In fairness, much like his lady counterpart - Natasha, there wasn't much that Clint wasn't good at but his clear disadvantage alongside a portion of other members of the extended Avengers troupe was the fact he was only human (wherein the term 'only human' means a regular mortal human with no genetic freakiness causing them to be extra strong, shoot lightening from their hands or turn into a big angry green monster at inopportune moments – to name a few examples – but far exceeded what most would consider a 'normal human'.)

Myra had memories of getting thrown on her ass too many times due to her complete inability to control a staff with any semblance of the grace, style and effectiveness that Clint did.

 _Fucking 'leg stretch'._ She thought bitterly, catching the sturdy weapon as it was thrown towards her

The floor of the gym was almost entire padded with mats but Myra knew it wouldn't do anything to take the sting out of the whoopin she was about to be dealt.

Begrudgingly she stretched then took stance on the mats several paces away from Clint, mirroring his grasp on the weapon. Two hands holding it tight with a decent gap between them.

He nodded at her, inviting her to begin.

Myra started on the offensive, swinging the weapon down hard directly towards Clint. He swung his up in turn, holding it horizontally just over his head blocking the strike with ease. Recoiling the woman bounced on the balls of her feet and came in with a sideways blow, aiming to hit him in the ribs. Again, he blocked it with no effort, pivoting on his feet and turning his body to a sideways stance to better take the blow -their staffs crossed in a near perfect 'x' between them. Growing quickly frustrated Myra paced back two steps, dipping the staff as if it were a spear and charging forward only for her opponent to step backwards, to the side, then swing his weapon down vertically to collide with the tip of the other staff. Hard. Hard enough that the wooden pole flew out of her hands and skittered across the floor.

Myra's first mistake (other than having no skill with this form of combat) was to watch her weapon as it flew across the room. As she turned her body, intending to go retrieve it, she earned herself a hard blow across the back which sent her stumbling forward – crashing unceremoniously onto the floor face first. She gathered herself, hissing as her wrist throbbed hard from the exertion and sudden shock of her body weight dropping down on it.

“You've got more in you than that.” Clint stated, spinning his staff around his form in an impressive display that circus performers might call contact juggling. Here, Myra would call it showing off.

Pushing herself up, Myra huffed deeply and retrieved her weapon.

Now, Clint came on the attack. With ferocious grace he spun the staff in a dangerous windmill from his left side to his right, and approached her at pace. Panic sunk in to her bones, backing up as quickly as she could away from the onslaught until she was backed against the rope of the boxing ring. Raising her staff up in a basic block over her head as Clint made to swing downwards at her head, but changed last minute sliding the weapon through his hands and striking her hard in the legs.

Myra hit the ground with a cry, rubbing her shins to alleviate the sting.

“Up.” Said Clint. Short and sharp, using his staff to lightly tap her on the shoulder.

The feeling coursing through Myra's body was something you could describe as anger – but it intermingled with a deep set fatigue that stopped her from losing control of her temper. The reality was she just wanted to get this over with. Her list of aches and pains was growing at an alarming rate and wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

As Myra struggled upright, using the ropes of the ring to pull herself upwards, Clint flicked her staff further away with his own.

“Cabrón.” She groaned at him as she made it to her feet, making to walk towards it only to have to jump back as Clint's staff was swung down in front of her, narrowly missing her. “Dude what the-”

Another swing, this one whistled past her ear as Myra managed to duck and swivel out of it's way.

She opened her mouth again to speak but she spotted Clint's stance and new he was aiming for an uppercut.

With her wrist in the state it was, Myra was under no illusion that she could not block this strike with her arms without serious damage. Dodging was her only option.

Myra was the shortest inhabitant of the compound, making just over 5 feet in height. She was toned but bulky with muscle and, to the unknowing onlooker, may appear not to be entirely flexible. However Myra had trained alongside the best here at the compound in days long since passed and people's instant dismissal of her due to her shape and size meant many underestimated how evasive she could be. Clint didn't. He knew exactly what she was capable of, and he wanted to see it again.

The staff came at her, and upward swing using both hands. Initially throwing her weight forward, with arms outstretched, Myra slid her feet to a better stance and launched her entire form back – flipping backwards and narrowly missing the solid pole as the tip swung past her left shoulder.

A wave of pain shot up her leg as she landed and her glutes gave an awful throb signalling a cramp was on the horizon. But she didn't stop. Nor did she stop to take the praise that it looked like Clint was about to give.

She rolled sideways across the floor and recollected her staff, springing upwards and spinning around Clint – attempting to strike him with every rotation of her body around him. Each time it was blocked with a sharp reverberation of wood hitting wood but she didn't let up.

Myra could hear the blood rushing in her ears, adrenaline overtaking the pain she felt all over.

She blocked Clint's next strike, another swing for her legs but this time she was ready. She mirrored his earlier block and swung her body sideways, moving her staff to a vertical position by her side to bat away the attack. She then spun again, aiming to deliver a harsh blow to the ribs. But as her body twirled her legs finally cramped, sending her stumbling to the ground again clutching her left thigh in pain.

Clint didn't let up.

His staff swung downwards at her, forcing her to roll out of the way.

She was spread out flat on her back on the mats when he made a stabbing potion towards her head.

The bubble of frustration in Myra burst. She grabbed the staff with both hands as it came towards her and grit her teeth. Letting the burning anger inside of her loose she made to force electricity through the staff....

...but nothing happened.

With a smirk Clint yanked the weapon back and struck Myra again in the side, then in both her arms before leaving the staff pointing mere inches from her face.

She was flat on her back, breathing heavily, lightheaded from the feeling of bruises forming and cramp stinging through her quads.

“I give up.” She croaked, hissing as she stretched her leg out trying to alleviate the burning sensation.

Clint nodded, setting his staff aside and kneeling next to her.

“Good work kid, I think you're still not 100% after yesterday.” He praised as he offered his shoulder down for her to sling an arm over, aiding her in getting to her feet and over to a bench to stretch her leg out and recover.

She groaned loudly in discomfort as she tried to will the cramping away. Bruises were starting to form on both her forearms from where she had blocked the onslaught. Clint was sat a few feet away on another bench watching her.

“Is this revenge for worrying you yesterday?” She asked, genuinely wondering if she had done something specifically to Clint to earn this beating. She knew that most in the compound would love to deal out an even worse one to her but she couldn’t recall doing anything to piss Clint off.

He chuckled in reply. “No kid, just wanted to see if you've been putting any of our training to practise since you left.”

A ghost of a smile passed over Myra's lips. She had, on occasion, needed to employ some of the more 'showy' skills she had learned during her time at the compound, but business in the city usually only ever required her to throw a decent punch (a skill she'd had prior to her training with the Avengers) and when the stakes were raised, fire a gun.

“Maybe not as much as I could have been.” She conceded softly, rubbing her wrist as it throbbed.

The girl sat in silence staring at her wrist. Had she overdone it so much the day before she'd shorted out her powers? She had gone to zap Clint... but nothing happened.

She flicked her eyes up to meet Clint's who was, perhaps unironically, watching her like a hawk. Swallowing her discomfort she pushed a smile on to her face, slowly stood and stretched.

“I think I need a hot bath.” She laughed tiredly.

Clint stood too, offering his fist out which she bumped with a giggle.

“So down with the kids aintcha.”

He made a pout and threw up what she could only describe as some botched attempt at a gang sign, making her laugh even harder.

“Fuckin' wypeople man.” She snorted.

The pair laughed, and made their way out of the gym, the noise echoing through the wide empty halls.

* * *

Several floors away, in a darkened surveillance room, a tall broad figure rewound the footage of their fight over, and over, and over... and chuckled.

“It works.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that little nugget was okay for everyone, next update will be soon as I have it basically ready to go apart from a few little tweaks.
> 
> I mentioned up top that my writing style is evolving, please let me know if the shift is too jarring. What would you think to me re-writing earlier chapters later down the line? Just let me know in the comments as well as adding any feedback to let me know what is going right, what is going wrong, are you enjoying etc etc etc
> 
> Big love as always,  
> S.T xo
> 
> Next time:  
> Wanda convinces Myra to join in on a social evening with the team  
> A chance encounter gives Bucky an opportunity to ask some questions


End file.
